How It Is
by NightElfCrawler
Summary: 2007 movieverse - War affects even the most innocent. Changes are inevitable. For Sam, adjusting to life after becoming introduced to the Autobots and Decepticons was nearly as hard as facing the changes in his own life...and the consequences with it
1. Chapter 1: Changes

_Author's note: Yes, I know Allspark-Sam is way overdone, but the idea fascinates me. Therefore, this shall be yet another attempt. There are so many versions that I'm sure there will be similarities, so rest assured I did all I could to try and make this as unique as I could, and did not attempt to borrow anyone else's ideas. There will be severe surprises late in the story, that's all I will say. The story will not entirely focus on Allspark-Sam, though that is a major centric part of the story, this is more a rambling sequel, though it DOES have an ending, I'm just in no rush to get there just yet . For those that read How it Was, this is a sequel of sorts, but you don't have to read either to understand the other. _

**_How it Is_**_  
**Chapter One: Changes**  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

The first time he really noticed something was wrong, was about a month after it had happened. 

The bruises were almost all healed up, though several dark purple and green colors dotted his sides and arms, something he was very careful of not to let his parents see. How would you explain being caught by some gigantic alien robot in a war zone? They would have him committed. They already believed the whole Mission City war was something to do with UFOs, and in a way they weren't far off from the truth. Actually, they were almost spot on the money. But if Sam told them he'd been there, been involved, they would have definitely blown a gasket, as a certain medic would say. But his dad… well he wondered just how much he knew. After all, Ron Witwicky had been there with him when he'd told the cops his car just 'stood up'. But he probably just brushed it off as teenage weirdness.

Nonetheless, THIS was beginning to worry him.

Sam flexed his arm, having just gotten out of the shower. He could seen fine gray lines running up and down his arm, right along where the veins would be. At first, he just thought it had been a result of the adrenaline he'd felt during the war, after all he'd never been in ANYTHING like that. They called it a skirmish, he called it a war. They blew up friggin' buildings for crying out loud. That was bound to leave a mark. He'd inhaled more debris than he knew had to be healthy. He'd already had nightmares every single night about the event. But the bruises were fading, while this was growing stronger. He wasn't sure what to make of it, and was reluctant to mention anything to anyone smaller and dumber than Mojo.

He glanced down at the dog, sitting watching him from the door of the bathroom. The mutt's cast was off by now, but that hadn't stopped him from begging for pampering. And considering he was the only friend Sam had right now, he was of course the one pampering him. With a sigh, he bent down and scooped the little Chihuahua up in his arms, and stared back at his image in the mirror. He looked older. He'd aged several years in the last few weeks, it seemed. He wasn't sure what it was about battle that made you re-evaluate your life, but he was almost 18, and felt like he was going on 20. He'd been shoved out of his teenage years, and into responsibility when the unthinkable had happened. Now, even his parents had noticed his change in behavior. He was more calm, more together, less spastic. He was responsible, and took those responsibilities seriously. He did well in school, and didn't mess around like he had before. He'd grown up fast.

Sam's eyes slid out to the driveway as he pulled his shirt on. He half expected to see something other than what was there, his dad's fancy car. But there was nothing else parked in the driveway, there hadn't been for a month now. He sighed, and stared blankly at the empty space, feeling the familiar feeling of loneliness set in. He couldn't even share his feelings, his memories, his fears with someone who'd understand them. It was highly frustrating. He jogged downstairs and poured himself a bowl of cereal. He'd been getting up early as of late, and rather liked it when no one else was up. He kept hoping if he got up early enough he might catch sight of what he was looking for, but so far he'd had no luck… that and he hadn't been able to sleep well lately. Kinda tough to sleep when the moment you closed your eyes you saw exploding buildings and cars. Yeah, Sam had been enjoying energy drinks to stay alive.

A sudden soft knock at the door surprised him. He got up and walked over, glancing up the stairs. His parents hadn't woken yet, so he supposed it was up to him. Probably a delivery man. He was right of course. When he opened the door, a man in brown was standing with a small envelope in hand. "Hey there, sign for this please?" He held the slip out, and Sam jotted down his signature. "Thanks." The delivery man handed him the envelope, and Sam glanced down at it. Probably for his dad. He was surprised therefore, to see his name printed on the label. Odd… he hadn't ordered anything. He pulled the flap open and shook, and a small metal box slid out, along with a slip of paper. He took the box and opened it, curious. Inside, was a tiny device that looked as if it were designed to hook over the ear, and resembled a cell phone wireless receiver. He blinked, and fingered the device, then lifted it up. It definitely was designed to go in the ear…. And there was a small microphone. It looked super high-tech. He shifted his gaze to the paper, and picked it up, unfolding it. It was written on Department of National Security paper, with an official seal.

_Sam,_

_It took us some time to finally finish this prototype, but you know how particular on details a certain weapons specialist is. He insisted we send it to you as soon as he'd finished it. Hope it's of some use._

_Maggie._

Sam smiled. The first time he thought he'd smiled in a long time, actually. Lately he hadn't a lot to smile about, but this one glimpse of the amazing things he'd been involved in a month ago brought it all back. He didn't hesitate in finding the small 'on' switch and sliding it onto his ear. "Hello?" He asked. But there was no reply. "Figures." He muttered, but didn't remove it. He had no idea who'd be contacting him, but it was nice to know someone still thought of him. He made sure he brought his tousled dark hair down in front to hide it from view. If anyone asked, he could just pass it off as a cell phone accessory. Good enough.

He completely had forgotten about it by the time he'd reached school, locking his new bike up with the rest of them lining the racks. He'd gotten it after the 'incident'. His parents had been FURIOUS that he'd 'lost' his new piece of crap car. He'd told them that it'd gotten blown up in Mission City, and that helped ease their anger, but his dad had told him he wasn't buying another one, so Sam had resigned himself to a bicycle. It wasn't bad, got him out, but every time he saw a yellow car driving down the highway, he jumped and stared after it, half hoping. But no luck today. Class droned on as usual, and Sam only half paid attention to it. He'd done well in school lately, but today his heart wasn't into it, being brought back to reality by the letter and device that accompanied it. And it was halfway through History that he nearly fell out of his desk when suddenly a quiet voice sounded in his ear.

_Sam, can you hear me? Come in Sam._

It took him a moment to recognize the voice. He'd only heard it once before. It was a soft English accented voice far too formal for normal people. But once he did realize who it belonged to, a surge of excitement flew through him as the instructor continued to lecture on the physics of the cold war. He looked around, and slunk back down in his seat, glad that he was in the back of the class, but still not daring to speak out loud. He whispered it, barely a breath. "Bumblebee?" Did he dare to hope?

_Yes Sam._ Came a rather enthusiastic reply in his ear. _I am glad to hear your voice. I take it from your low vocalization that you are not in a position to freely speak? Tap the microphone once for yes, twice for no._ Glad for the scout's intelligence at analyzing the situation, Sam tapped the side of his head idly, with a pencil in hand, hitting the microphone under his hair gently twice. _Very well._ The voice of his friend sounded. _I apologize for our long absence, but I will explain it to you after school. Meet me in the parking lot._ Sam tried his hardest not to break into a wide grin, and tapped the microphone once. _Communications terminated. See you then._ And with that the voice was silent once more. But it didn't matter much to Sam, as the rest of the day flew by now that finally he had something to look forward to. His mind didn't focus on his studies, but when the buzzer sounded indicating the end of classes, he practically bolted out the door, and down the steps to the school.

Sure enough, parked at the curb, was a bright shiny new yellow concept Camero with black stripes running down it's center. Everyone was staring at it, wondering who on earth could own such a flashy ride. Sam's face split into a wide grin, and he bolted for the car, nearly falling face first on the cement when he missed a step. He wrenched the door open and threw himself inside the empty cab ignoring the stares from all around, slamming the door behind him before he burst into a small explosion. "Dude, Bumblebee… where the heck have you been? I've been going nuts." The other students outside all were staring in at him, clearly thinking that he'd lost a few brain cells to be talking to his car like this. Too bad they didn't know the truth.

"My apologies." The voice came from the speaker system, slightly mechanical and buzzing, as if it were being transmitted through a broken amplifier. "We had things to take care of. However, you will soon see for yourself." The Camero's engine revved, and Sam only had a brief second to scramble into the driver's seat so others wouldn't freak out, before the car took off on it's own, speeding down the street.

"Great." Sam muttered. "You're gone for a whole damn month, and all you got for me is riddles? You're not gonna even tell me what you guys have been up to, where you've gone?"

"Sorry." The voice apologized, sounding amused. "You will understand soon, Sam. Do not worry."

"Yeah right." Sam sighed leaning back in the car, watching the wheel turn on it's own. Any other person might have flipped out, but he was used to it by now. It was like a warm breath of air being in the familiar situation of letting the car take over. He sure missed it.

As if responding to his unspoken thoughts, Bumblebee spoke up. "I missed you too, Sam."

"You reading my mind now?" Sam grinned jokingly.

"Not likely, Sam. However you may have come one step closer to achieving that level yourself." The car responded calmly.

"Huh?"

"The processor you were given."

"Oh this?" Sam put a hand to his ear, taking the device he'd gotten earlier and turning it over in his hands. "How you contacted me earlier?"

"It is wired into all of our internal comm. systems." Bumblebee explained. "When we send internal memos to that device, you can receive it from farther distances than your cell phone can receive calls."

"Cool!" Sam grinned, putting it back in. "So it's like, a long-distance communication to the Autobots?"

"Precisely."

"Wicked." He grinned quite pleased at the development. "Now I can find out where you guys are when you're late."

"Optimus asked that you only use it in emergencies." Bumblebee pointed out. "Otherwise it can clutter up the frequencies, and distract us if we are engaged in delicate operations."

"Oh…right." Sam scowled a bit. Figures. He sulked the entire way out of the city, as Bumblebee put on the speed and shot down the highway. Oddly, the car never got caught by the cops, since scans did wonders to weed out any radars pointed his way. There was just one exception, and unfortunately as they were tearing up the dirt road heading out into the desert to who knows where, Sam noticed something out of the ordinary peeling up the road behind them. "Um… Bee?"

"Yes?"

"We're being followed… and you're not going to like it." He squinted out the window, feeling panic beginning to rise in his throat. "It's…that freakin…cop thing."

There was silence, and Sam had the feeling that Bumblebee was busy scanning behind him, or something. So when he spoke, Sam was a little startled to hear him audibly angry. "Barricade is not to be harmed." He said tersely.

Sam had never heard Bee become angry before, well not speaking angrily anyway, and blinked in surprise at the dash. He recalled the 'death match' that the two mechs had the first time he'd found out about Bumblebee's 'other' form. He had very dark memories of the thing his friend had fought. "You're kidding me. Not to be harmed?"

"Optimus' orders. Do not ask me why."

"Ok…" Sam said, glancing back at the Decepticon. "I thought you wasted him though."

"I apparently did not do a good enough job, it appears. I recall seeing him after that incident on the freeway shortly after we departed the Hoover Dam."

"Oh… right." Sam blinked. He'd been a bit distracted at the time.

Sam decided it was best to remain silent, and so they did as they sped up the road, the empty desert open before them. It wasn't until they crested the rise, that Sam saw the first glimpse of where the Autobot was taking him. And it was enough to stun him into a longer silence. The entire valley floor used to be flat empty salt plains… however, now a sloping rise covered the entire thing, like a buried dome. There were no entrances, no obvious signs of what it was, and if Sam hadn't known better, he'd have guessed it was natural. However, the empty salt beds were cracked with lack of water… the rising dome was not. Bumblebee sped down the incline heading towards the dome, and as they drew nearer, Sam watched in amazement as a hidden door in the sand opened not but a few hundred yards in front of them, and the speeding Camaro and following police car zipped down a ramp, into the dark earth below. It was a short trip through the darkness only illuminated by headlights, and then they were out into the open once more… or something like it.

Sam gasped audibly at the sight. Spread out before him, buried well beneath the surface with what appeared to be some kind of force-field dome shimmering above them holding the dirt back with open blue sky in the center, was a massive city sprawling out. It looked half-finished, and of course WAY too huge for his size. He knew immediately what it was. "Bee… you guys built your own city?"

"It is not complete. We are still working on it. But yes. We built it. Your military provided the abandoned base, we merely adapted around it." The pride was evident in the Autobot's voice, and Sam grinned back.

"It's wicked cool."

"Thank you, Sam." His rapid pace slowed as they neared an arch built over the entrance to the city, where waiting for them were the three Autobots that Sam had come to know well in the past months. It still felt empty, however, noting they were one short. Bumblebee stopped before them, and opened his door. Sam took the hint, and slid out. He glanced nervously over his shoulder at the parked police car behind him, then back to the other three. For anyone else, it would have been a bizarre scene out of a science fiction flick to see three massive metal robots standing calmly before him. But for Sam, he just grinned, happy to see them again. Ironhide was looking grim, his arms folded over his plates, staring directly at the cop car. Ratchet looked ready to blow a gasket. Optimus Prime was calm and unperturbed, and as Bumblebee shifted forms, standing up to stand next to Sam, his body faced more towards Barricade than his companions. "So. Nice place you guys got here. Mind telling me what…" he thumbed at the cop car. "…HE'S doing here?"

"I would like to know that as well." Ratchet growled angrily. "Optimus, what in Primus' name are you thinking allowing him here?"

"Calm down you two." Optimus' stern voice was firm and defined. Sam glanced up at him, still incredulous, but so far the Autobot leader knew what he was doing…an explanation was at least expected before he hid behind Bumblebee when Ironhide powered his cannons up. Yeah, he didn't want to be anywhere near THAT. Optimus was speaking again, and so Sam tore his gaze from Barricade, back to the leader. "He is here at my invitation." There was a consensus of grumbles from everyone. Ironhide just remained uncharacteristically silent, still staring intently at the Decepticon. "The war is over." Optimus stated firmly. "Megatron is dead. The remaining Decepticons have fled, or been disposed of."

"There will be more, and cowardly Starscream will be back." Ironhide scowled. "He always causes trouble."

There was a snort from Barricade, who still hadn't changed his shape, perhaps afraid of antagonizing the others. "On that, we agree." His low gruff voice spat.

Optimus cleared his throat. "Our race is split thin enough as it is. If we are to continue our existence, we need co-operation even from those we considered enemies."

"Will all due respect, sir…." Ratchet said in a dark voice. "This is… as the humans would say… bovine fecal matter."

"Bullshit." Sam offered helpfully. "The term is bullshit, Ratchet."

"That's what I said." The medic replied darkly, glaring at Barricade.

"Hey, I don't like this idea any more than you, Wrench."

"Ratchet!" Ironhide had grasped a hold of the medic's arm and was holding him back from lifting a laser scalpel to the Decepticon.

"What is YOUR take on this?" the medic demanded, incredulous that the weapons specialist was not as furious as the two yellow bots and the human were.

"Optimus already discussed the matter with me." Ironhide said firmly. Ratchet stared at him in shock, and Bumblebee made a surprised squeal, too surprised to vocalize his thoughts. "He has some rules in mind, of which I have agreed are viable. You will assist, if Barricade is willing to co-operate. He already agreed to Optimus' terms or he wouldn't be here."

The Decepticon growled, his wheels rolling back a little, but he said nothing. Ratchet glowered at him, but turned to Optimus. "This is true?"

"Yes." The leader said patiently. "Barricade contacted me on his own, we discussed his options, and he agreed to my terms. He will not be able to inform anyone of this location, and will abide by the rules I have set out for him."

"Which are?"

"He is to assist us, not harm the humans, remain in sight of one of us at all times, and his processors will be encoded to prevent him transmitting the location, or any information to his former companions. If he manages to find a way through Ratchets alterations of his comm. system, he knows that we shall not withhold action against him. However, I believe in second chances. And if Barricade is willing to work with us, a second chance he shall get. After all, there is so few of us left, any more pointless deaths will only extend our fate."

The Autobots all glared at the Decepticon, who remained sitting in car form, not backing away any longer, but seeming to try and stand his ground. Ratchet flexed his fingers, glaring. "Alterations, hmmm?"

"You will not perform anything I do not approve of, Ratchet." Optimus said firmly. "I will stand watch while you do the work if I must."

"No… I'll do it." The medic said grudgingly. "But I'm not going to be gentle about it."

"Like the Pit you will…!" Barricade snarled, his lights flickering in anger. "I don't have to put up with…"

"I will ensure that it is done properly." Optimus insisted, a flare of his brilliant blue optics staring down the medic, who backed off, cowed by his leader's fury. "Or I will personally offline you myself."

"Yes sir." Ratchet growled grudgingly, but shot another snarl at the Decepticon, before crossing his arms again.

Optimus sighed, and turned, kneeling down to address Sam once more. "My apologies, Sam. Our squabbling should not be done before guests."

"'sokay." Sam said uncomfortably. To be honest, he wished he could have joined in on the 'con bashing. But he also didn't want to be 'accidentally' squished later. "I'm just glad to see you all again."

"Hmm." Optimus mused, his bright blue optics blinking down at the boy. "I apologize for not informing you of our proceedings, however I was involved in negotiations with your government, and was explicitly asked to refrain from contacting you until we finished our discussions."

"And?" Sam asked, wondering what KIND of proceedings. "They're letting you stay, right?"

"Yes." Optimus said, glancing upwards at the massive underground structure they were in. "They have agreed to keep our presence secret from the general population, in return for occasional assistance in certain situations. In turn, they will co-ordinate with us with regards to Decepticon activities. We are allies."

Sam let out a relieved breath. He'd assumed that would be the case, since the bots had worked so well with the branches of military during the Mission City incident. Secretary of Defense Keller had been impressed with them and also was on their side, which likely helped. But still, there were enough loonies in the government to make him worry that they'd truss them all up on tables like they had with Bumblebee. "I'm glad that's over with." He said, leaning against Bumblebee's foot. "So things are back to… er… well.. normal for now."

Optimus frowned slightly, turning his optics back down towards Sam. "For now, yes."

"So what happens next?"

"Now, we wait." Optimus said simply. "More will come."

"More from both sides." Muttered Ratchet.

"Another reason why Barricade's assistance will be crucial. He has knowledge of the Decepticons, how they work, and what they will do when they arrive. We also may be able to use him to our advantage."

"What, like a double agent?" Sam asked. "Is that safe?"

"It has been done before." Ratchet said stiffly. "With devastating consequences when we were betrayed."

Barricade snarled at him. "Do not blame me for that, Wrench."

Ironhide still had a firm hold on the medic, as he twitched, infuriated by the nickname. "I would advise you to refrain from taunting him, Barricade. My joints are getting stiff. He might slip out of my grasp next time." No one believed that Ironhide would slip up like that, however it had the desired effect as the Decepticon fell silent.

Optimus sighed, clearly frustrated with his team. "For now, Sam I wish to speak with you. Ratchet and Barricade will proceed to the medical ward for evaluation. Ironhide, go with them to ensure Ratchet does not cut the wrong line. Bumblebee, I would like you to question Barricade about Decepticon codes while he is undergoing the procedure."

Everyone saluted, and grudgingly Barricade wheeled after the two Autobots, followed by Bumblebee, leaving Sam and Optimus alone. The large mech sighed, and gazed down at Sam before offering a hand down. "We have much to talk about."

Sam gulped, still not used to climbing into a huge robot's extended hand. However, he climbed in, holding onto a finger as he was lifted onto Optimus' shoulder. He sat firmly between a crease, his arms around an exhaust stack, and made himself comfortable as the large mech slowly strode through the half-completed town, taking them for a walk. "Sam… there is another reason that I did not contact you this last month." The mech finally said after several long paces away from the entrance. Sam had been busying himself with staring at the large buildings around him, impressed at their height and architecture. It looked like this had been an abandoned warehouse or base, and the Autobots had simply altered the buildings to suit them. Sam remained silent, as he let Optimus continue, since he really wasn't sure what to say in this situation anyway. "How are your injuries healing?"

The question threw him for a second. "Oh, fine." Sam said, feeling a heavy weight of guilt flood through him. "The bruises are mostly gone, and I'm not TOO sore anymore. Luckily my folks didn't find out… they'd freak if they knew. Not like I can explain giant robot finger marks around my ribs."

Optimus voiced a soft sigh of response. "True. Fortunately your physical injuries were not substantial enough to warrant a visit to one of your hospitals."

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "That would have been trouble. Nah. I'm good."

There was a long pause before Optimus spoke again. "You are certain you are in full health? Nothing to report?"

Sam felt the guilt rise in his chest, as he suddenly realized that he had a sneaking suspicion Optimus knew more than he was telling. But he wasn't about to admit it yet. "No, nothing. I'm good. It's all good."

Optimus was silent, but after a moment sighed. "Very well. However if you notice anything concerning to you, I would like to know about it. I have nothing but your safety in mind."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam sighed. "What about that cop thing though?"

"You refer to Barricade?" Optimus said, a frustrated sigh escaping his processors. "He will be a challenge for us all, however I would like you to assist us in his behavioral training."

"Me? What can _I_ do to train some ten foot tall weapons packing destructo-con?"

"He will be learning mannerisms and … regulations…. From Bumblebee and myself. But his lessons in human fragilities should come from you. If he gathers knowledge on how your race operates your processors, he may adjust better."

"Right.. so long as he doesn't squish me."

"He will not do so, Sam. Bumblebee will see to your safety."

"Great." Sam muttered, but sighed in resignation as Optimus began to move through the retrofitted buildings towards the buildings where the others had gone. "Can I ask the real reason he's here? It's not that bunch of bull about uniting everyone, really?"

"Sam." Optimus' voice was clearly no-nonsense. "Do not inquire further."


	2. Interlude One: Barricade

_Author's note: The Interludes function to elaborate more on side-stories of events that happen in the main story. They're fun tidbits to throw in there, and help you get an idea of what's going through the other characters heads. _

_**How it Is**__  
__**Interlude One: Barricade **__  
__By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

This fraggin' sucked. There was nothing else that could possibly describe the sensation, the anguish. 

The boredom.

The streets were busy with cars flashing by in the hot summer sun, ignoring the black and white car hidden underneath the shadows of an old dilapidated building that looked as if one push in the wrong direction would send it tumbling. Those that DID see the figure parked there in the shadows merely saw a police car laying assumingly in wait for speeding cars to catch.

But it wasn't cars he was interested in.

Barricade was bored.

It had been almost month, according to the fleshling's calculations of time. And what a long month it had been. In that time, he had not received a single signal from one of his comrades.

Not one.

He expected it of Starscream. That coward had little interest in leading a dying group of warriors. With Blackout, Bonecrusher, Devastator and Megatron all out of the picture, and Scorponok out of contact, the coward had fled before even bothering to contact him. He'd just assumed he was dead, the slagging glitch. But it bothered him that Scorponok hadn't maintained contact. He'd listened in on some of the transmissions during the battle and learned that the insect model Decepticon had been left in the Desert, abandoned by his own caretaker Blackout. Possibly this was why he was maintaining radio silence, either way…

Barricade was alone.

Slag it, for once in his life he actually MISSED Frenzy.

That disturbed him. He was really desperate if he missed that little glitch.

He wasn't even sure why he hadn't jumped into help his comrades during the battle. Starscream had sent him a query as to where he was, and he'd just ignored it. He'd put in an appearance on the freeway, but no one had even noticed when he'd dropped behind the action, watching in grim resolution as Bonecrusher was taken out with swift brutality. He'd decided at that point he preferred to stay in one piece. He was NOT a group fighter, he was best at sneaking up and taking out his foe swiftly. There was no way in the Pit that he'd stand a chance against Optimus Prime, and the way the Autobot leader was being careful in scanning the area, he knew he had to bug out and lay low if he valued his life.

Some might call it cowardice, but he preferred to call it street smarts. If the Decepticons won, he could always claim he was waylaid by some errant humans. If the Autobots won, they wouldn't know where he was. Either way, his chassis was saved the rigors of battle.

But still, being the ONLY Decepticon on Earth in range of those pit-slaggin' do-gooders made his energon boil. He had to constantly watch his back, keep his scanners pealed full-grade, shut down the moment one came into range, hoping they didn't happen to SEE him. He'd had a few close calls, but only the first week.

He hadn't seen them since then.

It was odd, he considered, idly scanning vehicles speeding past him in the dusky light. Where had they gone to? He'd have known if they'd blasted off this slagging rock. But it was as if they had decided to lay low themselves, possibly wary of any returning Decepticons. But why should they worry, they had destroyed Megatron AND the Allspark in one stupid move by that small insignificant pesky fleshling of a human.

Barricade's engine revved angrily despite himself. That human. HE was the source of this WHOLE mess, the reason Barricade was stuck here by himself, having to watch out for his back every waking and recharging second. That human had ruined EVERYTHING.

He hated Sam Witwicky, oh yes he did. With a flaming passion.

He had long since considered all the elaborately fun things he could do with the puny human. There were ways to cause him great pain without terminating his bodily functions. Barricade had looked up all the different methods on the internet, and created a few of his own. He favored trying to peel the exoskeleton skin off the creature. That was a bit messy, but he was never a 'con to worry about getting his hands a little dirty.

There was just one problem. That annoying bug that followed the boy around everywhere. What was it's designation again? Some kind of flying insect…Ah yes, Bumblebee. The one who had handed him his own aft on a glorious plate of fried circuitry.

Barricade hated him too.

But he'd had time to plot his move. A little less than a month had passed, and Barricade had watched very carefully from his vantage point across the street from the human's place of information assimilation. Every day the boy came there, placed a feeble primitive kinetic locomotive device into a rack of similar devices, entered his education center, then a few earth hours later, he'd come back out, repeat the ritual in reverse, and never once glance across the street at the hidden black Saleen sitting in the shadows.

He was so unobservant.

There was one thing that had puzzled Barricade. Through this entire ritual, cycle after cycle, he had not once seen, sensed or located the Autobot guardian of the boy, nor any of the others. They were nowhere around. He'd even risked a long-distance sensor sweep and come up empty.

But he didn't make his move yet. He had to be sure. It wasn't until now that he finally decided it was time. He'd waited long enough, now it was the time to move.

Slowly, the Saleen moved out into traffic, igniting his standard hologram so the humans didn't flip out and wreck their vehicles. He couldn't afford to draw even a cursory glance from anyone during this operation, as much as he despised using the stupid thing. Really, whose idea was it to give them all identical representations? It had been a patch-job at best, and Barricade hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now despised the thought of sharing ANYTHING with that glitch Starscream. Nonetheless, it served it's function, as no human glanced his way, and instead provided an easier means for him to slip through traffic as they all slowed around him. It made it easier for him to speed up. He didn't have to follow the boy, at least that was a plus. He knew where he lived by now, having followed every step of his route on various days just to be certain. Therefore, it was simple to tail him at a distance, taking his time and remaining several blocks and turns behind as not to be spotted. Not that the human expected trouble, he'd been safe for this long, he likely was becoming complacent. It would make the capture a bit less challenging perhaps, but as long as he got a few good screams out of the fleshling, he didn't care.

He slowed as the boy reached his home, dumped his bike against the bushes as usual and jogged up inside. Barricade parked out of sight from the windows, around the block but still within scanning range. The boy would know him if he lay eyes on him, so it never hurt to be careful. And if there was one thing Barricade DID pride himself in having, it was patience. So he waited. The night grew steadily darker, as he thought of all the fun he was going to have tonight. He knew the perfect spot too, a place out in the desert beyond any other human civilization where the boy's screams would go unheard. There were several sharp rocks and long drops that would come in handy. His engine purred at the mere thought as he idly scanned the boy's room.

Strange…

Barricade hadn't actually scanned the human before. He couldn't identify one from the other, after all they were just all squishy things that gave off no identifiable markers. He had to visually look for the kid before he could separate him from the rest. But now that he attempted to scan for bio-signatures that might indicate the kid's state of stasis or functionality, Barricade found that he was completely lacking any signature at all.

It was as if the room were empty. Yet, he could clearly see the kid hunched over that primitive mess of wires and circuits that he considered a computer, and Barricade KNEW that the puny humans didn't possess sophisticated technology to manufacture holograms. So, he checked again. Two human life-signs and one rodent. There should be THREE humans and one rodent.

Barricade turned this information over in his processor, puzzled.

It was possible that the boy had some kind of residual radiation blocking all scans, he supposed. After all, the human had touched and carried the Allspark, something even he had not had the opportunity to do in his lifetime. Who knows what kind of effects something so powerful could wreck on these fragile fleshies. He'd heard there had been a few 'offshoots' from the boy's careless stumbles, though he hadn't seen any of them himself. So what kind of an effect would life-giving energy have on a biological life-form? He had no clue. It had never been recorded or even theorized before to his knowledge.

Frustrated, Barricade scanned again, noticing the boy's light had shut off in his room.

Nothing.

Frag it.

He was eager to start his devastation on the fleshling, but at the same time insatiable curiosity tugged at him. This wasn't normal. This shouldn't happen. The boy shouldn't be blocking his scans. It was just like he wasn't THERE. Could it be an Autobot deception, a way to protect him? Possibly, the Decepticon thought, turning the idea over in his head. He had never heard of something masking bio-signatures before, but he had heard of the Autobots masking their own signatures before. It had been done in the war and frequently, he might add. It couldn't be that difficult to alter it to accept human biology. But in that case, why even bother if they weren't around to protect him? Surely they couldn't think masking bio-signatures would keep the boy safe? It'd be an easy thing for Barricade to use the boy's parents as victims instead, and he had no qualms about doing so. So why would they do such an irrational thing?

He scanned again. Nothing. Fine, he was moving then. He rolled forward on silent wheels, approaching the house and waiting to see if anyone moved on his scans. The parents were in a room together and not moving, the rodent situated on a plush surface downstairs out of the way, he would not get a better time. With a whine of rotors and digital initialization of his transformation circuits, Barricade pushed himself up, moving slower than normal to avoid detection as he slowly rose to his full 17 foot height. He slowly stepped over the hedge, moving slowly, stepping lightly as not to shake the ground and provoke the weak fleshling's alarm circuits. Nothing moved, not even the little rodent downstairs. Carefully, Barricade lowered his optics to stare into the boy's room, red bathing the bed in an eerie illumination that showed him the human was laying unmoving, deep breaths coming from his torso. So fragile…so pathetic… one stab would end it's stupid life.

_Hold it… What the frag is THAT?_ Barricade froze, optics focused on the human's breathing figure, but focused internally as a warning abruptly flashed on his display. He called it up, and read the diagnostic, still as a rock in the meantime, as not to provoke the boy. _What the frag… no… this wasn't possible. _He scanned the display, sure his diagnostics were on the fritz. His optics shifted back to the boy, and he frowned, then shifted views, bright glowing red distorted to a bloody orange color as he pulled up a different viewing mode.

_Frag! What the pit is going on!?_ He thought angrily, staring at the display in disbelief. He hadn't seen it, detected it nor even thought it possible, yet there clear as day on his infra-red display, was a shimmering aura around the boy. It was almost like a heat register, but it hadn't come up on his thermals. He switched modes, remaining stock still, as a dull burnt orange color replaced his optics as he pulled up another viewing selection. He froze. _Impossible!_ There was no way this could be right. It registered as an electromagnetic field. Humans didn't radiate that kind of field. Ever. Such a pulse required significant amounts of metal and electric energy to generate, none of which the boy should have.

Unless…

His processor stopped operation abruptly as the thought idly drifted across his CPU._No…that can't be right. Humans are lower life-forms, incompatible with our own_, he thought darkly. But still… the boy had held the Allspark in his hands, and even more important, he had USED it. That in itself shouldn't have been possible by all accounts. Non-mechanical life forms shouldn't be able to use the cube. The Sector Seven morons had used technology to access it's powers, that he could rationalize. But no human holding it in his bare hands should have been able to initiate it's destructive powers.

Yet…Sam Witwicky had done it.

Barricade shifted his optics back to normal mode, their gleaming red glaring down accusingly at the human. Whatever the answer, he wasn't going to be having any fun tonight. He wanted answers. If this human had used the Allspark, and it had left it's mark on him in some manner, he had to find out precisely what it had done to the boy before he acted rashly. The last thing he wanted was to join Megatron in the depths of the ocean. Slowly, the Decepticon pulled back from the window, and made his way back across the grass, steps silent and light, barely imprinting the grass as he stepped back to the street, transformed and silently rolled down the road, coming to a stop at his previous location.

None of this made sense. Yet, Barricade operated on facts, not fiction. The fact was, he had a mystery on his hands, and one that he intended to solve.

So he waited.

The boy went to school the same time as usual, and he followed once more, this time training his sensors on him the entire time, trying to get a ping. Nothing. Empty. Every other human going down the street registered loud and clear, but this Sam fleshling just simply did not exist, according to his scans. It was ultimately even more frustrating when he lost him within the school, and had to sit waiting impatiently for the day to pass once more, until the boy came out again, rode home and entered his domicile once more.

Predictable he was.

That night, Barricade made the attempt again, drawing close once more. He had every intention of just grabbing the frail thing in his hand, squishing it in one swift move. However, as he neared the window again, staring into the boy's room, he stopped.

Something was different.

He flipped on his electromagnetic sensors, and stared in surprise as the energy field around the boy began to fluctuate rapidly. This was totally unlike the night before, the field was jumping up and down wildly, and he warily pulled back as he saw a sharp spike take out a clock on the wall. Energy flares… impossible, unless what he was slowly beginning to guess was true. The energy pattern was weak, distorted, but it's signature DID match the one in his databank as the trace he'd followed to this miserable little planet.

The Allsparks' energy trace.

Barricade pulled back slowly, his scans active as he warily transformed and deposited himself back in his favorite spot. This changed everything. If the boy had some kind of Allspark connection, residual or not, he needed to find out what it was. But he wasn't sure he could do that without calling attention to himself. He turned the problem over in his processors the whole night long.

The next morning, the answer presented itself to him in a most displeasing way.

A sudden signal on his radar jolted him out of a drowsy recharge, as his sensors began to go haywire. _Autobot!_ He quickly shut down all active scans and essential systems, going into stealth mode, leaving only his sensors active. Moments later, a familiar bright yellow Camaro rolled into the high school parking lot, parking out front. It didn't notice him, thankfully, or he would have been in a pinch. Not that he had any issues squishing humans in a fight, but it would alert the Autobot to his presence when he hoped they all thought him gone. The last thing he wanted to do was alert himself to their presence. However, this DID throw a kink in his plans, he realized with a curse. He couldn't sneak up and capture the little fleshling if that pesky scout was hanging around. He'd wasted his chance by thinking that they weren't going to come back around, that they'd abandoned him. Stupid move, armature move. He'd just ruined his chances of ever getting his hands on the boy.

Angrily, he tuned in his sensors' audio capacitors to maximum, focusing his beam directly on the Camaro in time as the boy rushed out of the building and into the car. He listened in carefully to the whole discussion._Frag. I'm too late_. Barricade growled to himself. The Autobots apparently were back in town… and if he knew what was good for him, he'd be turning tail and splitting right now.

But the Allspark… Did the stupid do-gooders even KNOW about the boy's secret connection to it? He'd not known it right away until he'd done an extensive scan, and chances were the complacent mechs hadn't any reason to scan the boy. And he couldn't let them find out and exploit it to their own uses… he had his own reasons for needing it.

A shudder passed through his chassis, as a sudden idea sprung into his mind. _Pit, he wasn't REALLY going to consider THAT was he?_ His own processors fell on internal silence, as he realized he really didn't have a better idea. If he wanted to stay close enough to monitor the boy, he HAD to… there was no other option. _Pit… I'm a fraggin' idiot. A traitor, that's what I am._

But wasn't he already a traitor? He'd abandoned his fellows.

Barricade sighed, and pulled up the files in his processor, watching idly as the two talked briefly, then moved out of the parking lot. He followed at a significant distance, as he regretfully pulled up a list of classified communications frequencies. He'd swore he'd never use them…but here he was doing it. If the others ever found out, he'd be gutted for scrap in a nanosecond.

Grudgingly, he pulled up the frequency, and activated it.

_Barricade to Optimus Prime._

There was a long pause. It gave him plenty of chance to change his mind, to block the frequency from tracking him. But he doggedly waited, engine angrily revving in traffic.

Finally, after what seemed like breems, the reply came. _Barricade._ The reply was curt and civil, more than he expected of his enemy. _To what do I owe the pleasure of this communication?_

_Don't sound so fraggin' smug, Prime._ He shot back hotly. _I'm not doing this because I WANT to talk to you._

_Then why are you doing so. Surely you are aware we can trace this signal._

_Yeah, I fraggin' know, okay?_ He shot back angrily. _I want a truce._

Another long pause._ A truce?_ The reply was wary. _For what purpose?_

_Look, Prime. I'm alone here. I don't got no backup, and I'm sick of running and hiding my aft from you and your trigger happy weapons specialist. I don't wanna surrender to you, but I don't want to have to keep_ _watching my aft for the next hundred orns either. I'll come to you and let you take my weapons offline if you must. In return, you don't scrap me. _

There was another long pause, and Barricade had the sneaking suspicion that the Autobot leader was consulting said weapons specialist. _You would surrender to us peacefully?_ The reply finally came.

_Yeah…_ He sent, grudgingly. Primus he felt humiliated at this. But it was the only way.

_I will have a few more restrictions to offer you if I am to accept the terms of your surrender._

_Fine. What?_

_You will be tagged at all times and not permitted out of our observation. Your weapons will be disabled. You will share intel with us in regards to your companions, and work with us to secure against any attack._

_What?!_ He snapped back, feeling his energon run hot as he studied the terms. Betray his companions? But was it really betrayal? The only reason he was loyal to Megatron was because the slagger had been powerful. He was dead, and Barricade had absolutely no respect for that pit-spawn Starscream. Eventually more Decepticons would come he knew… but when would that be? If the Autobots were really as soft as their reputations claimed, he might be able to break away later and give them the slip once they were complacent enough with his presence. Was he really willing to walk a gray line? _Fine._ He sent tersely. _But I have one condition as well. No fraggin' cells. You let me walk around free within your perception radius. I'll let you tether me, but I'm not being caged._

_Very well. So long as you do not harm the humans, any of their dwellings or possessions, and cause no destruction of their resources and supplies, you may have free reign. However, be warned that if you take an aggressive move or attempt to infiltrate secrets, we will execute actions against you without prejudice._

_I got it._ He sent bitterly. Yeah, he knew that well enough. But he wasn't interested in hacking their systems or secrets. _Fine._

_I see by your signal, you are pursuing Bumblebee. Continue to follow him to our base. I will inform him not to fire upon you, so you may approach. But I will give him permission to defend himself if you take action._

_Yeah yeah… I got it already._ He shot back bitterly.

Primus… he was never going to forgive himself for this. Even Decepticons had honor to a degree. Well, most of them.

Was it worth it?

He'd have to find out… Only time would tell.


	3. Chapter 2: Secrets

_**How it Is**__  
__**Chapter Two: Secrets**__  
__By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"YOU SLAGGING PILE OF SCRAP, I'LL TEAR YOU APART!" When they entered what could only be described as a medical bay, they saw Ironhide and Bumblebee holding down a struggling Barricade from lunging at Ratchet, who had a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"It was your own fault." Ratchet said calmly, holding something wicked looking in his hands, turning it over. "I am most interested to discover WHAT you are hiding in the first place, Decepticon."

"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT, HATCHET!"

"Now how did you hear that nickname?" Ironhide asked, amused.

"Word gets around, Junkhide."

"What is going on here?" Optimus' voice did well enough to silence the argument, though the soft warbling laughter of Bumblebee's processors could be heard dying off. He glanced at the four, his optics narrowing in displeasure. "Answers please, not silence."

"Sir." Ratchet said calmly. "I was simply attempting to perform the operations you requested. Disabling his long-range comm. systems, encoding his communication processors, installing the homing beacon, encoding weapons systems, replacing Decepticon technology…"

"AND TAMPER WITH MY FRAGGIN' SPARK CASING?!"

"I did no such thing." Ratchet said stiffly. "I don't see why you have to throw such a fuss, I was merely checking it for damage. You act as if I'm attempting to offline you."

There was a sudden deathly silence in the room, as Barricade froze, his frame stock still, before his glowing red eyes narrowed in anger and hatred, and the sounds of his weapons arrays began to power up in the room. It was clear that was EXACTLY what he thought.

"ENOUGH!" Optimus' voice roared over the fray, as with a shink of metal, his hidden sword snapped out of his right arm and formed into place right between the two arguing bots. Ratchet took a step back, Barricade however continued to stand there, furiously struggling not to shoot the medic, despite the fact Ironhide had taken an iron grip on his cannon arm, aiming it at the ceiling. "I will not tolerate bickering." Ratchet looked down, rather glumly, but said nothing. Optimus glared at Barricade who avoided his eyes, and with a whirr, his cannon powered down. "Now, Ratchet, explain."

"I was just examining routine diagnostics." Ratchet replied sullenly. I noticed there were some cracks in his spark casing and suggested he allow me to repair them if he valued his life. All it takes is a little hit and the thing would shatter. It's a death sentence." His optics switched to Barricade, whose chest was still wide open, gears exposed. "But he refused to have anything to do with it, and went ballistic on me."

Optimus frowned, and walked over to study the held 'con, staring at him intently, examining the inner workings with a keen eye. "I am not certain what you mean by denying yourself critical repairs, Barricade."

"It ain't none of your business." The Decepticon snarled, glaring hatefully at the leader. "It's MY decision. You can do other stupid repairs, but leave THAT alone."

Optimus stared back at his challenging gaze then solemnly held it over. "Very well. We do not intend to fight you unless you provoke us, so if you wish to deny yourself critical repairs, that is your decision." He glanced back to the medic. "Respect his wishes, Ratchet. He is entitled to his preferences."

"Yes sir." Ratchet agreed grudgingly, clearly unhappy with passing up not fixing up a patient to his fullest ability.

"When you are finished, he will accompany Bumblebee and Sam back home." Optimus held a hand up, and Sam climbed back down into his palm, as he was set on a shelf overlooking the medical table. "Please remain here Sam until he is ready for you."

"Hey, I don't want that human bug watching my insides get torn into scrap!" Barricade protested.

"You don't have a say in the matter." Ironhide rumbled warningly. "I would behave, if I were you. I nearly blew you away when you pulled that little stunt, don't test my patience."

Barricade growled, but said nothing more, and obligingly swung himself onto the table, laying down flat at Ratchet's instruction. His red optics lifted up focusing on Sam. "If you describe or breathe a word of this to anyone." He warned. "I might forget I'm not supposed to step on you, bug."

"Gee thanks." Sam said, grinning as he saw Bumblebee tense and say something in Cybertronian that made Ironhide snort in mirth. "You tell him Bee." The yellow bot grinned up at his charge.

"All right. Now you ARE going to hold still this time, or I will put you into stasis for the procedure." Ratchet warned as he opened up Barricade's chassis again, making sure to stay away from the spark casing. "Bet you got this during the war. No wonder Bumblebee took you out so quickly, with this kind of damage."

"Hey!"

"No offense Bumblebee." Ratchet growled. "But we all know that you're not built as a fighter. Your cannons don't pack enough of a punch. You did a good job against him though." The yellow bot looked somewhat peeved still, but didn't reply. "Nonetheless, I'd prefer to build in some secondary shielding so another hit doesn't send you into stasis-lock."

"Yeah fine, whatever."

"I'll need to offline you though." Ratchet said firmly. "It'll take a few hours and I'll need to reroute some systems."

Barricade scowled. "Fine… but if you do ANYTHING that I live to regret…."

"Don't get your fuses in a bunch." Ratchet snarled. "I obey Optimus. And he told me to stick to the options we discussed. I'll do that by my honor as an Autobot, which is more than I can say for you…" Barricade scowled, and retorted something in Cybertronian. Probably telling the medic what he could do with himself. Ratchet snorted. "Mouthy aren't you. Now power down so I can start."

Sam watched Ratchet work in silence. The medic had seemingly forgotten he was there, but the work he was doing was fascinating nonetheless. The interior of Barrier's chassis was a complex maze of wires, pumps, gears and cogs. While nothing resembled human anatomy in the slightest, Sam could still spot similar references. A large pump was working actively, sliding bright blue liquid around in clear tubes in his central part. Ratchet didn't touch that. He did flip open Barricades' helmet and tinker with the systems housed there. Once he was finished, he went to the chest chassis again and began to patch together wires, adding new piping, and some thick metal plates. Occasionally, Sam could see glints of light from something buried deep within the bot's chassis, something that burned his eyeballs. Sam knew what it was. It was Barricades own live spark. It was eerie, since Sam had seen only two before today, Optimus' and Megatron's… it was odd how identical they all were, Decepticon and Autobot. There was no difference in the glowing blue light, the sense of LIFE. They might have been branded differently, born or created differently, but they were all life-forms, alive and living… one wrong move from Ratchet could end that life, like someone stopping a heartbeat. And Ratchet knew it. He stared at the damaged spark casing a long time before he continued his work. He was no murderer, he was a medic and as much as he would have liked to stop a Decepticon, he would not kill some defenseless patient on his table. He finished his work, and closed the chassis back up, then went to the side and began to do some analysis, leaving Sam to stare down at the motionless Decepticon. It was strange, despite the viciousness design of the face, the design of a predatory type, when he was offline, he looked much more… well to put it mildly, human, if that were possible. But perhaps that was just Sam's imagination, having found out something… 'human' about the killer robot who'd tried to take him down. As if beneath that harsh Decepticon exterior, there was a person there after all, not just a killing machine. It made Sam wonder what made them all 'tick'.

He wasn't even aware that he was being watched until there was a loud sound from Ratchet's table and he looked up to see the bot swearing as he picked up something that had fallen off. Then, Sam noticed Barricade staring at him. The Decepticon was glaring, with the usual venom in his stare. They exchange glares for a while, before Ratchet wandered back over and noticed he was online again. "Everything operational then?"

Barricade sat up, breaking contact with the human's gaze. "Seems so." He grumbled, flexing each limb in term.

"Good then if everything is operational, you're free to leave with Sam and Bumblebee."

"Lovely." Barricade said grumpily, swinging his legs off the table and standing up, stalking out the doors only to stop and glare back at Bumblebee and Sam as if impatient for them to get going.

"Good luck." Ratchet muttered in a lower voice, his optics focusing on Sam. "Optimus told me you're in charge of his re-programming… Honestly I don't think it's possible, but you'll need all the luck you can get."

"Hey, I'm not that bad." Sam protested. "I'm a good guy. I can handle a few tough guys, as long as he's not trying to kill me."

"Not as long as I'm around." Bumblebee said simply, offering Sam a hand. "I have my orders to give you two as much contact as possible, but if he so much as pinches a seatbelt too tight around you, let me know and I will teach him a lesson."

"Thanks pal. I'll need it I think."

"I am your guardian. I would be lax in my duty if I didn't watch out for you."

"Just that?" Sam glanced up at him a little amused. "Just my guardian, aw Bee after all we've been through?"

Bumblebee smiled. "A friend as well."

"That's better."

They walked outside, where Barricade was standing, impatiently waiting. "Well, come on I haven't got all day to waste time." The ex-con growled angrily.

"Yes you do." Sam said grinning rather wickedly. "You've got as long as I need you, right Bee?" His guardian nodded, his own optics seeming to gleam with the same wicked light. "So I'd stop complaining. You're not gonna learn anything this way." He tried his very hardest to avoid flinching, when Barricade narrowed his optics in a hate-filled glare directly at him. Gulp. Those eyes were NOT pretty. "Right, let's go then. I got some time before I'm due home for dinner. We'll do some…research." The two bots made their way up the path towards the ramp towards the surface, and Bumblebee set Sam down before shifting back to his Camaro form. Sam started to get in, when Bee gently reminded him that Optimus had requested as much contact with Barricade as possible. Sam glanced up, and stared at the brutal cop car sitting with it's idling engine rumbling dangerously. "Man this is a terrible idea." He muttered uncomfortably. "He's gonna eat me."

"No he won't, Sam." Bee said, sounding amused. "You're not made of Energon, you wouldn't taste good."

"Ha ha." He said tonelessly, before slamming the Camaro's door a bit harder than he had to, and slinking his way towards the idling Saleen S281. It was frightening how opposite the cars were, despite their similar size. They stood at the same height, though Bumblebee was much slimmer and less bulked up than Barricade… and their cars reflected the same of them, right down to Barricades' flashy lights and paint job. Sam paused at the door, and stared into the front seat, remembering that Barricade had the ability to project a hologram. Was he supposed to take the passenger seat then?

To answer his unspoken question, the door opened. "Well? Get in, squishy." Snapped the car. "I haven't got all day." Sam sighed and glanced once more back at Bumblebee almost accusing his guardian of abandonment before he slid into the sleek leather front seat. He'd barely reached for the belt before the car zoomed forward at an incredible speed he'd never seen Bumblebee take. He fastened the belt quickly, and didn't dare put his hands on the wheel, but instead held onto the lap belt. The interior of the Saleen was very sleek, and he had to admit, classy. The radio was advanced, hooked into an elite computer system and radio set-up. All the usual cop-like equipment was there, along with much higher levels of technology looped into it. Barricade was the epitome of surveillance. Sam let out a low sigh, only to hear Barricade's low baritone voice speak crossly through the radio like Bee's did, only this was crystal clear with no static. "Admiring my hardware, bug?"

"Hey, stop with the insults." Sam said, frowning at the dashboard as the car sped down the road at high speed, the Camaro still close in pursuit. "I don't call you metal-head."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I mean No." Barricade snarled. "I will call you what I like, maggot."

"Fine." Sam said. "Have it your way, bolts-for-brains."

"Do not call me that." The voice was low and angry.

"Eye for an eye, pal. You stop, I stop. That's the deal. Take it or leave it." There was dead silence as the car took a sharp turn, slamming Sam into the side of the car roughly. Behind them, Sam heard the Camaro's horn honk loudly. They continued in silence as they turned onto the road once more, and started down the smooth highway. "Yo… turn on the radio?"

"No."

Sam rolled his eyes. Great. This was just perfect. "Ok fine, don't then. But you know, you're going to have to pick a new look if you're going to be shuttling me around for the next few days."

"I am quite satisfied with my current façade."

"Yeah well people are gonna ask questions if I show up on my own doorstep in a supped up cop car day after day. To them, I'm gonna be a delinquent, or a goody-two-shoes. Either way, it spells trouble, draws attention, and is gonna make this whole thing take longer." He folded his arms. "So if you want to spend more quality time with me, be my guest." He was beginning to like this reverse psychology technique. There was complete silence, and Sam had a feeling Barricade was fuming. But a few moments later, he heard a series of electronic tones, and there was a small flash of blue light that lit the interior, and as he watched the cop car's interior altered. The computer screens vanished, and it took on the look of a more typical luxury car. Peering over the wheel, he could see there was no white reflected in the side mirrors from where the doors had been white. The car had become a plain unmarked black Saleen, no lights, no sirens, no flash, just bad-ass class. "Better." Sam said, smiling despite himself. Maybe he could get through to the ex-con after all. He just had to know the right motivation. "Ok, so let's start with lesson number one, shall we?" He grinned widely. "Women."

* * *

Sam shut the door and turned to glance back at the yellow Camaro parked in the ally way behind the black Saleen, and jogged over there first. His parents weren't home, which suited him fine. He wouldn't have to explain ANOTHER nice car. He still hadn't been able to figure out how to explain Bumblebee… He leaned in the window and glanced through the dash towards Barricade. "So what do you think?"

"He behaved better than I anticipated." Bumblebee agreed grudgingly. "I'm impressed, Sam. You have a way with words."

"Yeah well it's mostly luck." He said snorting. "So what are you going to do with him tonight? You can't keep him here."

"I know." Bumblebee said, with a suspiciously smug voice. "I have something in mind."

"Oh?" Sam asked, almost wondering if he wanted to know. "Should I ask?"

"It is a place where he can learn many things about humans."

"Where?"

"The mall."

Sam snorted, and just grinned, patting Bumblebee's hood. "You're almost as evil as he is at times."

"What?" Bee seemed alarmed. "How could you compare me in such a crude manner with that Decepticon?"

"It was a joke Bee. Forget it, k? See you tomorrow?"

"We will be nearby when you awake." He reassured him. "Recharge well."

"Thanks, pal." He straightened and with one final look at the Saleen, turned and headed back inside. He could hear their motors thrumming as they left the area, and couldn't help but chuckle. Man, Barricade was going to be in one foul mood tomorrow… not like he wasn't every day anyway. It still made him wonder why the Decepticon had decided to change sides. Optimus' reasoning was that he simply had nowhere else to go. But like Ratchet had said, there would be more Decepticons arriving eventually. So why had Barricade chosen now to play turncoat. It tugged on him. He trusted Optimus, almost as much as the Autobots seemed to. They would have lain down their lives, and while Sam wasn't quite there yet since he liked his life, he knew that the Autobot leader was wise about what he did. He hadn't seemed the type to make mistakes, but then Sam didn't know him as well as the others. They trusted him, but it didn't mean Sam had to drop his guard around Barricade. He'd noticed the others didn't either.

He opened the fridge and pulled a soda out, dumping his backpack on the table as he took a seat, staring out the window as he chugged the cold drink. Man today had been weirder than he'd expected. He wasn't sure what he'd thought, after waiting to hear from the Autobots all this time. Certainly he hadn't been expecting a whole city, and a new 'ally'. It was almost as complex as his relationship with Mikaela.

Mikaela…

It had been an interesting strained relationship after the battle was over. They had gone through something that drew two people closer together than anything else could, in a unique way. War did that. But once the dust had cleared, once she'd gone home and he had returned to his, things changed. They'd hung out a few times, but the truth was, his friends were geeks, and hers were hot babes who were more interested in lipstick colors than paint jobs on cars. He wondered what she saw in them. Still, they were fast friends, even if they weren't 'official' in the eyes of the school. The truth was, he got the feeling she wanted to be with him more on that level, but she also had her own friends to consider… as shallow as it was. They had an unspoken agreement that they were still fast friends, even if they weren't an item. Still, that didn't stop him from dreaming about her. Specifically, her body.

Yes, he admitted it, he was a simple-minded teenager when it came to girls.

He closed his eyes, savoring the last dribble of soda before lightly playing with the empty can, crunching the metal back and forth with his thumb, watching the wind toss the branches of the tree out front. It had been a very interesting night, the evening he'd returned after the battle. His parents had been released from custody at his request, and returned home with assurances he was fine. That hadn't stopped them from asking him all kinds of pesky questions. He'd been amused that, ironically, they'd guessed a lot of things that weren't far from the truth. Alien contact and abduction, government cover-ups… Though he'd been sworn to secrecy by both the Autobots and the U.S. government, Sam figured letting them believe in their little fantasies wouldn't hurt too much.

A wet nose poked at his sock, and he looked down seeing Mojo standing on his tennis shoe, nosing at him, probably asking for food. "Hey Mojo." He bent down and scooped the Chihuahua up. "Hungry huh?" He scratched the dog's ears, and grabbed the soda can, then paused. The can was completely crushed. He blinked. He hadn't remembered doing that, but maybe he had some pent up anger he'd not realized. He tossed it into the recycling bin, then set the dog down as he poured food into the dish. The dog began to chow down cheerily. "Pig." Sam muttered then grabbed his bag and jogged upstairs.

He idly dug out his homework and stared at it with a yawn, sprawling on his bed, blasting the stereo as he started on the complex Trigonometry. He hated math… He hated school in general. He wasn't really GOOD at anything. He couldn't write English essays well, couldn't paint in Art, couldn't catch a ball in P.E. and tended to blow things up in labs… and math, well he wouldn't even go there. Really, Sam had no idea what direction to go in life. He was good at talking and convincing people, he thought idly tapping the pencil against his jaw, staring out the window. He hated that Bee wasn't there. No, Sam had no idea where his talents lay. Maybe a public speaker or politician… no, he wasn't good at lying for that, and wasn't very good at eloquent speeches. He tended to stumble over his words and feet…

He sighed and glanced down at the papers, and froze. Wait… when had he…?

He was staring at a completed sheet of calculations, all perfectly executed. And the odd thing was, one glance told his brain that they were all correct.

Wait… how was that possible? He SUCKED at math.

Sam stared at the work, and then stuck the pencil eraser in his mouth and chewed rather irritated. He had absolutely no clue. None at all. Yet, it was all in his own writing, clear as day. He winced as he felt a sudden surge of pain in his head, and massaged his temple, feeling the headache setting in again. Great… he was really beginning to freak himself out now. That was the last thing he needed. He closed his eyes and flopped back on his bed, and before he realized it, was snoozing off.

* * *

_Transmission broadcast. Receiving?_

_Huh?_

_Receiving signal? Confirm._

_What? Who are you?_

_You are not authorized to broadcast. Confirm identity._

_Um…_

_Requesting landing co-ordinates._

_Confirm._

_Confirm._

_Landing co-ordinates scrambled, requesting alternate landing point._

_I don't know what you're taking about._

_Landing co-ordinates unrecognized. Seeking alternate point. Relay message to 001._

_End transmission._


	4. Interlude Two: Mikaela

_**How it Is**_

_**Interlude Two: Mikaela**__  
__By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

He was picking his nose again. So un-cool, but it made her smile.

Mikaela Banes watched the slouched figure to her left through her loose dark hair, blue eyes studying him keenly though he had no clue he was being watched. He was clueless. She wondered again just what she found so appealing in him, after all he was SO not her type, a total geek, dweeb, whatever you wanted to call him, Sam Witwicky was the schools' go-to-guy for laughter. He tripped over his own shoelaces, fell for jokes, and had more spit wads thrown at him than the entire gym ceiling. She honestly couldn't even remember the first time she'd ever seen him. He was just another kid, a kid who she laughed at with the rest, finding him pathetic.

But that all had changed a month ago.

She hated being dishonest with him. She knew he thought she'd abandoned him because she preferred hanging with her shallow friends, and not being seen with him.

But that wasn't the reason.

The real reason she'd kept her distance was because she was scared. For the first time in her rough and tumble life, she was frightened.

She'd driven a tow truck at break-neck speeds down a street exploding with shrapnel from buildings with a giant alien robot-that-could-turn-car shooting clear obstacles, and she was scared of Sam Witwicky.

Sad, huh?

Mikaela lowered her eyes to her fingernails, picking off another flake of paint coming off there. Getting back into her routine life after Mission City had been more difficult than she'd thought. Stepping inside her grandmother's house, seeing the lace doilies on the backs of the chairs had made her almost want to break down into tears right then and there. To think, all of that would have been gone if it hadn't been for what had happened. It was overwhelming. She had curled up on her bed and cried in silence for hours that night. She still had nightmares. How could people like William Lennox handle that kind of stuff? She was used to adrenaline, chases and speeding away in the darkness, but outright explosions and large things that could crush her in a heartbeat doing flips in the air were beyond her scope of reality.

But it had happened. And she had to deal with it.

That first day back to school had been tough. She felt as if she were walking a dream, everything around her distant and fuzzy. Had everything truly happened? Had she really been through a war zone and come out almost unscathed? One finger traced a cut on her cheek, covered by a small band aid. That was a reminder, it HAD been real.

She had looked for Sam, but he hadn't been in school that day. Presumably he'd had a tougher time than she had. She remembered he'd been favoring his ribs a lot after the battle, and his hands had been burned. She hadn't asked how it'd happened, and he hadn't asked her how she'd managed to drive a beat-up tow truck down a street full of rubble. They had just sat in silence inside the protective seclusion of the Military vehicle, along with others who had shared their experience, all quiet and lost in their thoughts. They had learned names that trip, Captain William Lennox, Master Tech Sergeant Robert Epps, and a few others. They had all been taken back to a military base and debriefed, after being given medical care and showers, plus a hot meal. It was there she'd met The Secretary of Defense John Keller, Maggie Madsen, Glenn Whitmann, and seen that horrible Agent Simmons again. She and Sam had kept clear of him, and he'd also kept his distance. Hot coffee helped them during the long process, and after it she'd found herself unable to remember a thing of what had been said. All she knew was they had been ordered to keep quiet, and given high level clearance badges or something, then sent on their way.

So now, sitting in class, Mikeala still had trouble sorting through her memories, trying to get back to normal. Sam seemed to have gotten back on track once he'd come back to school. He was dozing off in class again. She smiled quietly to herself, doodling on the paper in front of her, amused to find that her pencil seemed to have sketched a small buzzing bumblebee on a flower.

"Psst." Her eyes slid sideways, catching Trent's gaze as he waved at her. She sighed. The jerk hadn't left her alone since she'd come back. He had no clue. Since returning, she'd made a point of sitting alone from him, making it clear through body language she was pissed at him.

That hadn't stopped him from trying.

A note slipped onto her desk, passed by some helpful soul. She groaned internally, but took the paper and carefully studied it from the desk.

Mickey, what gives? Come ride with me after school. Trent.

She didn't even bother replying or shooting him a glance, she merely crumbled the paper up and tossed it casually into the aisle. There was your answer, Trent, she thought bitterly. He just DIDN'T give up. She glanced over at Sam whose head was bobbing downwards again. She tossed a small eraser at him, grinning as she watched his head jerk back up as he straightened in his seat. Hopeless, really.

The bell rang, and she quickly gathered her folders, shoving them into her rucksack and sliding out of the room before either boys could catch up with her. Sam had stopped trying after the first few days, a bit more keen on realizing she needed time and space to herself for now. Trent on the other hand was a different matter. She heard his voice calling out from down the hall as she turned the corner, and stood in the shadow of a vending machine, waiting as he passed her by, unobservant as usual.

She sighed, leaning against the cool metal of the vending machine, rubbing her face. "I just want things to get back to normal." She muttered, staring up at the ceiling, ignoring the passing students as they all headed for the doors, glad to be out of school for the day. She was in no hurry to move, she knew Trent would be waiting out front again in his shiny blue H3, expecting her to come up to him. He'd been stalking her every day since that day at the lake. Geeze, that day seemed so far away right now. She let her head thunk against the plastic siding, and paused when she heard an odd sound emanating from the machine.

She slowly straightened up, and glanced over at the green and white exterior. Funny… she didn't remember this one being here before. But then, she didn't really drink sodas that often. The Mountain Dew machine seemed normal enough, it's fan running to cool the sodas held inside, interior lit up. A student jogged up to it, stuck some coins in, pushed a button, and a cold can of soda fell into the receptacle, and the kid jogged off again without another thought.

She was just being paranoid. She sighed and turned walking down the hall, the student crowd thinning a bit as she made her way through the lockers, and paused by the door to the outside. Sure enough, Trent was sitting there with his buddies, waiting for her at the curb. This time, he was parked RIGHT at the driveway, meaning there was no way she could sneak by him this time. She sighed, and walked down the steps, heading down the path with the rest of the student body. She had to face him sometime, she guessed, might as well be now.

"Mickey!"

"Trent. How many times do I have to tell you, it's Mikaela, not Mickey. I'm not some damn mouse." She crossed her arms, glaring up at the jock, her blue eyes icy and cool as she regarded him.

"Geeze, what crawled up your pants, girl?" he asked, grinning widely as he approached and attempted to slide his arm around her waist, fingers hooking into her waistline. She twisted out of his grip, shooting him a dirty glare as he spread his hands helplessly. "What?"

"Trent, knock it off." She said with a sigh. She just really didn't want to deal with this guy right now. Oddly enough, she found herself a bit reassured by Sam. He at least didn't try to pull her pants down. "Look." She said firmly, shooting a glare to Trent's football pals as they all leered at her. "I'm done with this, ok? It's over. Now, just back off and leave me alone."

"What?" Trent asked, his eyes wide and attempting the 'innocent' look. "What's gotten into you, bunny?" She shot him a dangerous glare, but he was oblivious. "Look, I dunno what you're so PMSy about, but enough is enough. Now come on, hop in so we can go cruise."

"I'm not interested." She said turning around and starting to walk back down the street, intending to simply go home. There at least she could escape his advances and bury herself in a good book.

"Aw, Mikaela wait hold on." Trent jogged up to her, and fell into step beside her, hands shoved in his pockets as they walked. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, but I hate seeing you like this. Now, come on tell me what's wrong… You've been weird ever since that weekend at the lake."

She sighed and stopped. They were alone by the curb now, and he didn't have to pull that macho crap he pulled around his friends. That was one of the reasons she had been attracted to him at first. Outside that tough guy exterior, he was a real person just like her… living in a pretend world of facades. She looked up into his eyes, studying the hazel gaze directed down at her. "Look, Trent… there are some things you don't understand, no one can understand, ok?" she said quietly. "I just don't really want to deal with all this macho bullshit anymore."

Trent stared down at her with a slight frown on his face. He wasn't used to being told no. "Will you at least tell me what's going on? Does it have something to do with me?"

Yes… no… she didn't know. "No, Trent." She finally said with a sigh, running her fingers through her thick dark hair. "Not really, ok? It's not you. You're not a bad guy, a bit egotistical and narcissistic maybe…" But he'd never hurt her. "…it's just…things changed. I'm really not wanting any complications in my life right now, I have enough to deal with as it is."

"Ok." He said, surprising her. She glanced up to see him shrugging lightly. "Look, I'm sorry about the 'little bunny' stuff. I didn't mean to piss you off. I just don't get why you're so hung up on wanting to drive my wheels…" He looked uncomfortable. "I just GOT that car."

"Yeah, spoiled little rich kid gets a new hummer." She muttered. "Doesn't want his ditzy little girlfriend to get the paint scratched." She sighed, shooting him an angry stare. "Do you work on the engine yourself too, stud?"

He blinked. "Course not. Dad's got a great mechanic."

"Exactly." She muttered, turning and walking back down the sidewalk again.

"Hey, hold up." Trent jogged after her. "Come on Mikaela. Talk to me."

"I'm not interested, Trent." She said firmly.

"At least let me take you out for a burger or something? So we can talk?"

She sighed, closing her eyes as she stopped again. Maybe if she talked to him he'd leave her alone. "Fine. Only one." She said coolly. "So we can talk. But it's over after that Trent, okay? No pushing."

"Ok." He agreed, lifting his hands up. "Just one. Pick you up tonight at five?"

"Yeah." She agreed then continued walking down the road in silence, leaving him behind.

She pushed the door open to her Grandmother's house, and jogged upstairs without saying hello to the old woman. She was deaf anyway, and probably hadn't heard her come in. She dumped her bag on the bed, and sprawled back on it with a groan. What was she doing? She was confusing herself with all these games. She knew she didn't want to be with Trent anymore than she wanted to forget the events in Mission City had not happened. Life was just so different now. She knew she wanted to put her whole life behind her and just sit down with Sam, and finally have someone to talk to. But it was so complicated. She opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling plastered with posters of fancy cars. Trent would have flipped if he'd come into her room, as it resembled more of an auto showcase than a teenage girls' pad. The center most position was one she'd recently acquired. The paint job was wrong, as there were no black racing stripes, but the yellow Camaro had priority directly above her bed. A constant reminder to her of the truth.

She hadn't seen any of them, which she found unusual. Even Sam had taken to riding a bike, no yellow car in sight. It worried her. Had the government taken them hostage? She couldn't image that, since they had been very grateful for their intervention in protecting the city. And if Secretary Keller had anything to do with it, she knew that the Autobots were in good hands. Still…their missing presence was like a hole in her world now, and she wondered how Sam must feel. He was much closer to them than she was.

She rolled off her bed with a groan and flipped her laptop onto the bed, laying against the pillows as it booted up and connected to the wireless connection in her room. She had a pile of messages from friends wanting to know why she'd vanished off the face of the earth, but she ignored them. Instead, she logged onto various news sites and began to do her routine searches.

Nothing. Not even a glimmer. No unusual activities, no strange rumors, nothing.

It was like they'd vanished off the face of the earth.

Her phone rang abruptly. She sighed and picked it up. "Yeah?"

"Hey Mik."

She paused. Ok, she hadn't been expecting her father to call. "Hi, Dad."

"How are things?"

"Fine." She said warily.

"I have good news. I'm out on parole early."

She felt her heart leap. That was sudden… his parole hadn't been due for.. oh right a month. It had been about a month. "That's great Dad." She said, feeling a warmth spread through her suddenly. It had been a long time since she'd seen him other than quick visits to prison. But when her dad got out, things would become unpredictable. "When are you getting out?"

"Tomorrow, actually. Just heard from the review board today. Seems I'm being released on good behavior. Do you think you can come see me out?"

"Yeah, of course." She said quickly. She wouldn't miss that for anything.

"The ol' truck still work?"

"Yeah, haven't driven it in a while but I should be able to kick it into making a trip."

"I know you can. You got skills Mik. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks Dad." She smiled warmly. Despite being a felon, her dad was a good guy. It wasn't their fault that they were products of their environment. Luckily, though they wouldn't admit it, the prison time had helped them both out a bit. She'd gotten her education free of the life of crime, and he'd gotten some time off from that lifestyle.

"Hey, I was thinking…" He said slowly. Uh oh, she thought. "…Tranquility isn't really the best place for us. Grams wouldn't mind, what would you say about moving to somewhere more populated?"

"I have to finish school, Dad." She sighed. "I don't want to move again before finishing high school."

"Well, after that then."

"I don't know." She said slowly. She'd been doing a lot of thinking lately. She wanted to do something with her life, not be stuck in the same rut she'd been in since he'd gone to prison. "I have some ideas…trade school, college maybe."

"College? That would be great." He sounded actually enthusiastic at the idea. "You'd be the first in a whole generation to make it. But it's expensive…"

"I know. I'd pay for it on my own, Dad. There's bonds and stuff."

"Well, do some research into it. I'm proud of you… you can still stay with Grams… but I'm thinking of heading to L.A. once I get out. I have a job offer there."

"A job offer?" She queried, curious. "Legal?"

"Of course. Completely legit."

"I'm proud of you dad. What's it in?"

"One of the inmates here has connections with a dealership that employs ex-cons." He explained. "It's a first-step program overlooked by the parole officers, gets you back into the workforce and honest labor. Fixing sporty cars, race cars, fancy imports. It's all highly supervised, don't worry Mik."

She smiled. He sounded happy. "That's great dad. How'd you hear about it?"

"Not sure, actually." He said thoughtfully. "Some guy in a suit came in and asked for me by name. Seems my grease monkey reputation got around while I was here. Offered me the job, plus an early out. A good deal, I think."

Mikaela smiled at that. Ah hah… That sounded suspiciously familiar… as if some government strings had been pulled. _Sam, remind me to thank you and your big mouth again._ "That's great Dad. I'll see you tomorrow then, ok?"

"All right sweetie, I'm looking forward to it. We'll go out to celebrate, my treat."

"Sure, Dad." And with that, she hung up, and lay back on her bed staring at the ceiling. Things were really looking up.

She didn't feel so confidant at dinner, however.

She stared across the table at Trent, busy munching on a huge guacamole burger, as she idly picked at her fries. "Look, I know that I can be a jerk. But it's all part of the show, right? I mean, the guys would like freak if I didn't hold up to their expectations. I'm a leader Mikaela, and leaders gotta set an example."

"Do you have to set an example by spitting your food while you talk?" She asked idly, wiping a piece of crumb from her chin with disgust. "Geeze, get some table manners."

"Sorry." He swallowed his mouthful quickly, leaning forward across the table. "You know how it is, though, right?"

"I know how it is." Mikaela said not looking at him, staring at the pile of ketchup on her plate. "I don't like it though. It's stupid. I hate playing these games, acting to be someone you're not."

"But…" Trent blinked, obviously confused. "You used to be so good at it. What happened?" He asked frowning. "You've been acting so different lately."

"I've had a rough time, ok?" She said, glancing up at him. "You know that crap in Mission City?"

"The gas explosion? Yeah, heard about it, why?"

She sighed. Gas explosion? Could they have chosen a WORSE cover? "I was there when it happened, ok? It kinda makes you re-evaluate your life when it's flashing before your eyes." She leaned back, not touching the food again. She really wasn't hungry. "I'm not the same person I used to be, Trent. I'm tired of being a stupid shallow jock's play toy." She lifted her eyes to stare at him with a harsh look. "I'm my own person. And I'm not going to be yours to show off anymore."

Trent blinked, and then pulled back a bit, actually looking upset. "Is that what you thought?" he asked quietly, looking concerned. "That I just showed you off to the guys?"

"Wasn't it?" She asked bluntly. "You preferred to put your hands all over me as much as your car, what'd you expect me to think?"

"I thought you liked it."

"Maybe I did then." She said looking away. "But it's not cool now."

He was silent, obviously confused by her change in behavior, not that she blamed him. "Ok… well if that's what you want I'm cool with it."

She blinked at him, slightly surprised. Was this the same guy? Secure jock football star Trent? "You are?"

"Well, yeah." He said, looking up at her with an honest face, none of the macho BS he put on normally present. "I mean, I like you a lot Mikaela, and I don't want you just turning your back on me cause you think I'm just a football jock. Once High school's over, maybe I don't wanna be a football jock."

This was new. "Really? I thought football was your life." She commented dryly. "Trophies, signed contracts, your name in lights, the whole thing."

He looked down and shrugged a little. "I thought it was too, you know. But… my dad really was the one pushing it. I didn't mind, I LIKE the attention don't get me wrong… but…" He looked down at his plate, shoving a fry into his mouth. "I'm beginning to wonder if getting knocked around on the field is what I really wanna look forward to the next ten years or more."

Ok, now she was officially freaked out. She leaned forward and stared at his face, glad to see the familiar expression of annoyance flood over his features when she got too close. "If I didn't know you better Trent, I'd swear some alien switched your body out."

To her surprise, he visibly jumped, and gave her a narrow glance, coughing as he tried to swallow the fry down the wrong tube. "Uh, yeah right whatever Mikaela."

She shook her head and leaned back again. "Well, that's great that you've got goals and stuff. But I really don't want to be in a relationship right now. I've got my dad coming back into my life, and then I have to worry about what to do after school's out."

Trent was uncharacteristically quiet, then shrugged. "Ok… If that's what you want." He said glumly. "But if you change your mind, call me, ok?"

"Yeah, I will." She reached over and patted his hand lightly. "Thanks for understanding."

He didn't bother her again after that, and kept his distance. It gave her the chance to think through her priorities. It was then that she made her decision, sitting in class one morning, watching Sam's head nodding off again. She was through with this farce. It was time that she decided who she really was. And she knew who she wanted to be. The grease-monkey girlfriend to a geek who hung out with giant alien robots.


	5. Chapter 3: Signals

_**How it Is**__  
__**Chapter Three: Signals**__  
__By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

The next day sucked worse.

Not only did he have a pounding headache that hadn't gone away with rest, but when he turned in that homework his teacher had pulled him aside after class and accused him of somehow cheating. He'd explained that he hadn't, but couldn't explain why suddenly he'd aced the entire worksheet. He had asked if the answers were written somewhere, and the teacher had grudgingly admitted that he never wrote the answers down until time to grade, that the key was in his head, and couldn't do much to punish him as he had no evidence. Sam had left, feeling angry and resentful, and wishing his head would stop pounding.

At lunch, he saw Mikaela. Usually they didn't hang out at school, but to his surprise as he sat under a tree, he saw her heading his way. She smiled warmly at him, and plopped down beside him, her hair up loosely in a ponytail, wearing the similar trendy clothes she preferred. "Hey." She said casually, leaning back and staring up at the sky for a moment.

"Hi." Sam said quietly.

She glanced at him, not used to such a withdrawn reaction from him. "Everything ok? I saw Bee in the parking lot."

So that's why she'd come over. Figures, Sam thought a little more bitter than he should. "Yeah, he's back. Turns out they had some work to do."

"Anything big?"

"With them?" Sam snorted. "Everything's big."

"Point." She grinned. "So what's going on?"

"Ah…" He trailed off, not sure if she was in the 'need to know crowd' or not. "Nothing much right now I guess." He finally settled for a summery of the truth. "No chases, no explosions… life's kinda dull."

"You sound disappointed." She chuckled quietly. "I'll bet you miss being shot at."

To his surprise, Sam grinned back. "You know… I kind of do. It was different, wild… the whole 'you could die' thing… it pushes the adrenaline, ya know?"

"Tell me about it." She said casually. "Makes stealing cars seem tame."

"No kidding."

They were silent for a moment lost in their respective thoughts. After a while she spoke up quietly. "Sam… my dad wants to move again."

Sam felt his chest tighten. Great, now she was going to leave after unofficially 'dumping' him? No, he wasn't bitter, not at all. "Where are you moving to?"

"I'm not going with him." She said firmly.

He glanced up, feeling the pressure in his chest lift. "You're not?"

"No." She said firmly. "I'm an adult now, I can go where I'd like. I want to finish school here." She turned her gaze then to stare at him intently. "And then maybe study something that colleges can't offer."

Sam felt himself starting to grin. "You mean, alien robot anatomy?"

"Yeah." She grinned. "I have to talk to Ratchet and Optimus about it first though. I'm not sure they'd say yes."

"I don't see why not." Sam said, being honest. "I mean, you're great with mechanics… and I'm sure Ratchet could use the help. He can't handle all the emergencies all the time."

"My thoughts exactly." She said, leaning back. "Would you mind taking me to see them after school?"

"I'll have to ask Bee first… we may not be going back there for a while with freak-o joining us… but yeah."

She gave him an odd look, and it was then that Sam realized he probably shouldn't have said anything. "Freak-o?"

"Oh.. um yeah." Sam winced. "We have a new…trainee I guess. You met him…kinda." She stayed silent, staring at him. "Well, you'll meet him later. Let's just leave it at that right now." He stood up suddenly. "I'd better go. I'll see you after school?"

"Yeah, sure."

He could feel her eyes watching him the entire way back to the building.

* * *

"You did WHAT?"

Sam winced. "Keep your voice down, will you?"

Mikaela was staring at the black Saleen with a mix of disgust, fury, and fear. "You let him… join you?" She asked in a lower tone, but no less disgusted. "Are you guys nuts? He tried to kill us… more than once!"

"Calm down." Sam urged, glancing around at the school nervous as he saw some eyes on them. "Can't we talk about this on the way?"

"I am NOT riding with HIM." She said firmly, her blue eyes ice as she stared at the plain black car. "Hell no."

"Fine, go with Bee then." Sam grumbled. "I have to ride with him. Learning experience."

"Well that just sucks." Mikaela said emphatically, but made no protests as she slid into the passenger seat of the Camaro. She looked steadily at the black car, her arms crossed, and eyes narrowed.

"Great. Now look what you did." Sam said growling as he slid into the Saleen's passenger side.

"It's not my fault your female is unhappy with you." Barricade's deep voice rumbled, sounding mildly amused. "Are they always like that?"

"Not always…" Sam said, sighing. "But females ARE complicated creatures. I still don't get 'em."

"On that we agree." He still sounded amused, as he tore out of the parking lot, nearly hitting a sporty Corvette on his way. Bee honked at him… or it could have been Mikaela. "Our females are not programmed to be so complex."

Sam blinked. "Your females?" Had he heard that right? "Wait, you guys HAVE females?"

"The designation of two sexes can be applied to our races, although the mechanics vary." The ex-con replied, sounding a bit bored now. "The ability to reproduce is similar, requiring two opposing genders to operate. The mechanics however are not as… disgusting." He growled. "You humans have a most repulsive form of reproduction."

"What, your way's better?" Sam raised his eyebrows, actually interested. No one had mentioned female robots, and how they reproduced. He'd just assumed the Allspark did that for them, and that's why they wanted it so bad.

"It is far more efficient, and practical."

"How so?"

"You humans do not think when engaging in the act of mating." Barricade said, irritated. "You simply do it for the carnal pleasure of the 'feelings' it brings, from what I understand. Many of your species seem ill-equipped to deal with the repercussions."

"Yeah well…" Sam said, not really having an answer for that. "There are ways around it."

"Not any that are 100 percent accurate."

"No, I guess not." Sam agreed. "So what, you guys just make little baby robots by crossing sparks or something?"

"Crude, maggot." Barricade snarled. "But not entirely inaccurate. We first build the form, and then create the life to inhabit the form by… 'crossing sparks'… as you say."

Sam blinked. "Well that makes way more sense." He protested. "Why couldn't we do that. It'd make life SO much easier. So you guys can… you know… 'spark'… without having a body of a new robot….?"

"Yes." Barricade said, sounding amused again. "Your way is so primitive, maggot."

"Yeah well, excuuuse me, Mr. Advanced Killing Machine." Sam rolled his eyes. "No one's perfect. Bet you can't grasp your tiny processor around how it feels though."

"Neither can you." Barricade sounded gleefully smug. "Your biology indicates you have never attempted mating."

"Hey!" Sam flushed bright red. Now that was just wrong. How could he TELL? "Off limits, bot."

There was a rumbling thrum of the engine, and Sam had the sneaking suspicion he was being laughed at. "Ok Mr. Wise Bot." Sam said grimly, crossing his arms. "So have YOU ever sparked it up with a femme?"

"Bah, don't be ridiculous." The ex-con snorted. "Do you honestly see ME with a femme, worm?"

"No, I guess not." Sam admitted.

"Besides, femmes are rare." Barricade said a little more muted than normal. Sam blinked at the tone. "Megatron saw to that, he eliminated most of them. For all I know, all of them. Even before that, there was only one femme for every five hundred mechs."

"Geeze… that little? Must make… um…reproducing hard."

"We do not require the need to reproduce on the same frequency as you biological life-forms." Barricade pointed out. "We live nearly uninterrupted lives, and when damaged we can inhabit new ones if transferred."

"Almost immortal huh." Sam said quietly. "Must be nice."

"It is life. To cease to operate would not be desirable."

"No kidding." He leaned back frowning a bit. "So this big war you guys had back on your home world… it destroyed a lot of you, right?"

"Correct. Our numbers have dwindled to perhaps only a small fraction of what it once was." Barricade admitted calmly. "Scattered across the galaxy."

Sam frowned, remembering that despite the informative conversation Barricade WAS one of the bad guys. What would happen if more did come? Would he switch sides again? The saying went, after all, once a traitor, always a traitor. He remained silent, thinking over the information he'd been given. It was odd… he'd learned more from the ex-con than he'd ever learned from the Autobots, and it made him wonder. Granted, he'd never asked so probably Ratchet would have had a ball telling him all the details, but it was odd learning it so matter-of-factual from someone who'd once tried to kill him. He knew it was the truth, there was nothing that seemed blatantly obviously a lie. Nonetheless, something kept bothering him. If there were no more, or few femmes left, and the Allspark was now gone, their race would eventually die out. It might take several human centuries, but with the war being brought to Earth, more would die between both sides. A sudden question came to mind, and though he hated finding out all this from the ex-'con, since he was so willing to spill he might as well keep prying. "So… can I ask you one more question?"

"You may ask. I will not guarantee an answer."

Right. "So the Allspark…" He felt Barricade tense slightly beneath him, but kept going. "…it created life too…it's like a more powerful version of 'sparking'?"

Barricade was silent for a moment before speaking in a wary tone, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing, though for whatever reason Sam couldn't figure out. "It is as you say, a more powerful version. It has the ability to not only create life, but program it to full adult status, upgrade weapons, and bring life to that which was lost. It can also terminate life with equal efficiency."

"So… it's like…" Sam wrinkled his nose trying to find a good comparison. "Kinda like your God then. I mean, that's why you guys revere it so much?"

"It does not quite meet the definitions of what you claim as 'God'." Barricade rumbled after a moment. "It is not an all-powerful sentient creature that does things at it's whim. Though I do not know much about it, from what I have heard it is merely a powerful tool that can be used. There were some that worshiped it's powers on our planet, but I find their theoretical nonsense to be useless. The Allspark was a weapon. Be it used to create weapons, or to eliminate threats."

It made sense, Sam supposed. Perhaps he'd get a different view if he asked Optimus, who seemed to know more about the Allspark than anyone yet… or even Bee, he'd held it after all, used it's power. He must know more about it than Barricade. He remained thinking about it as they raced towards the underground base. Once they arrived, he slid out of the car, glancing around, only to hear Mikaela's voice behind him. "Wow, Bee… this is… amazing."

Sam grinned and turned back to her as Bee shifted shape behind her. "Nice isn't it? Can you believe they kept it secret from us for a month?"

She smiled, as she looked around. "I can see why."

"There you are." They all turned to see Ironhide stomping towards them. He gave a stare down to Barricade who slunk back a little, still preferring car form around the others. "Mikaela." He said solemnly as he nodded down to the small human. "It is good to see you functional."

"Same to you, Ironhide." She said, slightly nervous. She'd seen the others the same as Sam, but not interacted on the same level. "Nice place you got here."

The weapons specialist nodded, pleased at the compliment. "Prime wants to speak with you. All of you." His gaze shifted to Barricade meaningfully. The ex-con growled, and shifted form, causing Mikaela to jump back out of instinct. "Follow me then." Ironhide said, turning and heading back down into the city. Bumblebee offered a ride to the two humans, who climbed into his hand gratefully as the bots started off, long strides taking them the distance easily.

"I can't get used to … him." Mikaela whispered in Sam's ear, staring at the ex-con in front of Bumblebee. "Why are they trusting him?"

"I don't know." Sam replied, frowning. "He's still dangerous, no doubt about that. But he's a bit different than I expected. I'm not sure how though. He's kept his word though, and hasn't hurt me… much anyway."

She shot him a glare. "And what happens when he changes his mind and his buddies show up?"

"I don't know." Sam admitted. "I guess we'll just have to trust Optimus. If he says that the robo-cop won't hurt us, I guess I just believe him." She frowned, not really liking that answer, but it was all they had.

They made their way into the warehouse bay that Ratchet had took up as medical ward, and found the rest of them gathered there around a computer terminal. "Oh good, you're here." Ratchet said turning at their entrance.

Optimus nodded to the group. "Welcome." This was more to Mikaela than anything. "I am glad to see you."

"Yeah…" She said as Bumblebee deposited them on the desk where the computer was. "It's good to see you guys um… repaired."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Ratchet said snorting a bit. "Though getting the dents and grime out of HIS armor…" he thumbed at their leader. "…was worse than pullin' teeth, as you humans put it."

Optimus just rumbled a low 'hmm' with an amused smile, then cleared his throat slightly. "Ahem, I have a request to make of you two, if you are open to it."

Sam and Mikaela both immediately perked up. "Sure." Sam said quickly. "What is it?"

"We have detected that large objects have descended from orbit into the atmosphere, a distance away from our current location. We have not received signals from these objects, and are not certain if they are indeed Cybertronian in origin. However, due to the location of the objects, I am not willing to leave the base to investigate myself, nor send Ratchet or Ironhide in case we run into trouble." Prime's glowing optics focused down on the humans. "Bumblebee has volunteered to scout ahead. I have requested he take Barricade with him, in case these turn out to be Decepticons. While it is not necessary for you to accompany them, it would be a good idea to have your advice and expertise with the human culture for interacting with the locals, if you are willing."

"Not to mention I'd feel better having someone who knew a rod or two about fixin' problems that popped up." Ratchet added, his gaze going to Mikaela. "If you wouldn't mind taking a few notes before you go."

"No problem." Mikaela said immediately. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that…"

"Certainly." Ratchet said clearly pleased. "I would be eager to 'show you the ropes' as they say. It would be wonderful to have some medical assistance. And your small human frame would permit repairs in more sensitive areas that are quite difficult for me to engage."

"He needs a nurse." Ironhide drawled lazily.

Ratchet glared back at him, his fist turning into a welding torch. "I could weld your cannons shut, Ironhide."

"Bah, threats threats. You need a sense of humor, doc."

"Ahem." Optimus said pointedly. "We are getting off topic here." He turned his attention back to the two humans. "Are you willing to go on this mission? We will see that the appropriate measures are taken in regards to your schooling and parental units."

"Yeah sure, sign me up." Sam said quickly. Mikaela nodded as well. "Where we going?"

"To a continent called Australia."

They both blinked. "No way!" Sam grinned widely. "Awesome." A pause. "How are we getting there?"

"The United States Government has agreed to provide transportation." Optimus said simply. "Captain Lennox agreed the information regarding the items would be critical to know, and convinced his superiors to co-operate in this mission."

"Right on." Sam grinned. "So when do we leave?"

"Tonight."


	6. Interlude Three: Miles

_**How it Is**__  
__**Interlude Three: Miles**__  
__By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

It wasn't fair. 

Yeah, sure his folks would have told him life wasn't fair, but this just sucked.

And it was all that stupid car's fault.

Yeah, Miles wasn't dumb, despite the surfer attitude. He knew when he was yesterday's news. Sam had been so stoked to get a car. Sure, he'd rambled on and on about how getting a car would get him the girl, but Miles figured that he'd get his ass turned down flat on the first attempt, then he'd come back to him and they'd go cruising.

Unfortunately, that plan backfired, because APPARENTLY said plan had worked.

Sam had gotten the girl.

Miles crossed his arms, shoving his iPod's earplugs into place, and blasted the music sullenly. And of course, since he'd been kicked out of Sam's stupid yellow car and had to walk home, Sam hadn't talked to him once, except to rant about some crazy shit... Satan's Camaro. He'd been busy washing his dog, and had passed it off to one of Sam's usual weirdness.

Us geeks gotta stick together, man.

Yeah...normally.

But then, Sam had just vanished. A whole damn weekend, and not a word. He'd not even popped online to chat. Then the next Monday he'd been gone... Tuesday too... He'd finally shown up on Wednesday looking as if he'd been run over by a semi truck.

Miles hadn't hesitated. "Dude." He hissed, running up to Sam's side, staring wide-eyed as his friend turned. Bruises decorated his face, he wore long sleeves, and sported a few bandages on his forehead too. "What the heck, man? Where'd you go? What'd that evil jock concubine DO to you, tear you out of the car and have her way?" his eyes widened hopefully.

Sam smiled thinly, and grabbed Miles by the arm and pulled him aside. "Look Miles, don't talk about Mikaela that way. She's not that bad, ok? We're friends now."

"Really?" Miles grinned widely. "So how far did you get? First base? Second?"

"No." Sam groaned, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "Stop it, that's not what happened."

"So spill! You ditched me at the lake, you owe me, man."

Sam didn't meet his eyes, instead glancing to the side back towards the parking lot, as if looking for some way to escape his best friend's incessant questioning. "Ok, look Miles...lay off Mikaela ok? If you gotta know, we um... well we went to the lookout, my car broke down, she helped fix it, and I drove her home." He finished lamely. "That's it."

"That's it."

"Yeah."

"Dude."

"What."

"You were gone ALL weekend. AND two days of school." Miles crossed his arms stubbornly. "That's totally not kosher with what you just said. You look like crap, and where's your car, dude?"

Sam sighed, and looked for all the world like he wanted to melt into the walls. "Miles, chill ok? Look, my car was destroyed." He said testily.

"Destroyed?!" Miles blinked, suddenly feeling bad for chewing out his buddy. "What happened?"

"I was caught in the whole Mission City thing."

"Oh." Suddenly Miles felt like a heel. "Dude, that totally sucks. No wonder you were out for two days. You're ok though, right?"

"Yeah I'm fine." Sam waved a hand, and Miles saw both of his hands were wrapped in a layer of gauze. "Just got some bruised ribs, some cuts..." He looked down at his hands and shrugged, tenderly sticking them in his sweatshirt's front pocket. "It'll heal."

"Man.." Miles sighed. "Ok, you and me, we'll go out and party. DDR at the 'cade, wadda ya say?"

"Nah, not today Miles." Sam said in a monotone voice. "I'm not in the mood, ok? I just need some time to myself right now."

Miles bit his lip. "Ok, man. If you say so."

"Catch you round later Miles." Sam smiled thinly, and slunk off down the corridor heading to class.

Miles frowned, leaning against the wall, watching his friend leave. Something serious happened to Sam. And it wasn't just some stupid gas explosion. Even Miles didn't buy that story. He'd heard all sorts of odd things, none of which he wanted to dwell on long. He was a total sci-fi geek, with an imagination as big as the Star Wars universe, and enough quotes and tidbits that would make your head spin, but even he knew what was real or not. But when his best friend was involved, reality took precedence.

It had to be that chick. AND the car. Sam was depressed cause he lost both of 'em. That was the only logical conclusion. He sighed, stopping by a soda machine and shoving two quarters in, selecting his choice, distracted by his thoughts for a moment until he realized that he hadn't gotten his soda. Stupid thing...ate his money? He pushed the button again, and this time the soda dumped out. He sighed, grabbed the Dew and meandered back down the corridor.

He HAD to cheer Sam up.

But how to do it?

Miles chewed his lip as he typed furiously on his computer that night.

SurfDood: So, any ideas?

TMutantNT: Nah. I dunno man, LadiesMan seems outta it. He hasn' t checked his ebay page today.

SurfDood: I know. But that Bee-otch screwed him up bad.

TMutantNT: He'll get over it. More babes out there.

SurfDood: I never seen him so whacked.

TMutantNT: DDR, man. DDR. Or Wii. I got a friend who's' lookin' to get rid of some X-box 360, I could hook ya up.

SurfDood: Why he trying to get rid of it?

TMutantNT: Dunno, some problem with it. Says it still works, it's just temperamental or something.

SurfDood: Might work. How much?

TMutantNT: I'll ask. Call you tomorrow.

SurfDood: K. Bye.

At least now he had a plan.

* * *

"Yo Sam!" He jogged up to the teen the next day, backpack heavy over his back as he grinned widely. "Come over to my place after school today, got something to show ya." 

"I dunno Miles. I'm not feeling well." Sam said yawning.

"Dude, come ON. You can't live in a hole your whole life!" He insisted. "Trust me, you'll love this."

"Nah.. not today Miles." Sam sighed, shaking his head a bit.

Miles frowned. To his credit, Sam DID look like crap. He had heavy bags under his eyes, looked a bit pale, and exhausted. "Ok... sure dude. If you say so." he mumbled, watching as Sam trudged off to class alone. He glanced down at his backpack, sighing. Guess he'd be playing the new 360 himself.

* * *

And as if things couldn't get any weirder... 

He soon found out why the guy had been so willing to sell the X-box for cheap. The first time Miles plugged it in and stuck a disk in it, it worked fine. He had a blast playing Devil May Cry. But later in the evening, he began to notice that the game began to skip and jump. Luckily he saved before the thing shut off completely, and powered down. No matter what he did, wiggle cords, hit the power button, yelled at it, the thing just wouldn't work, so he gave up.

It worked fine the next afternoon, and this time didn't quit on him, though he only played a few hours.

The next day, it had moved.

It was weird... really weird...He KNEW he had put it on the lower shelf of his entertainment center...the top shelf wobbled. But there it was, plugged in and sitting on the top shelf.

Very weird.

It got worse.

Sam still hadn't talked to him. Every time he saw him in the halls, he seemed exhausted, walking in a daze, and never seemed to see him. Miles had stopped trying to grab his attention. He kept waiting for Sam to get over her. He'd noticed she wasn't hanging out with him either, which was a good sign...but Sam sure was taking it hard. Angrily, he reached for his wallet as he stood in front of the soda machine, but paused when suddenly a soda dropped out on it's own...

He hadn't put money in, OR pushed any buttons.

Well hey, all right! He grabbed it, grinning like a fool. "Dude, Free soda? Thanks." he said grinning at the machine. Ok so maybe this day didn't suck as bad as... Wait... what was that noise? He froze, turning with the soda spitting carbonation into his nose as he held it up to his lips. It had...made a sound that hadn't sounded like a normal vending machine sound... Nah... had to be sodas shifting inside, that was it.

But the weirdness just kept coming. First off, the X-box had taken to enjoying puzzling him. In the middle of the night he'd wake to strange clicking and whirring sounds, flip on the light and see the thing sitting on a different shelf than where he'd left it. He'd even gotten so paranoid, he'd started marking which shelf he put it on, with a sticky post-it. But the next morning, the POST-IT was moved too.

One night he woke up and SWORE he saw glowing green eyes staring at him from the edge of his bed, promptly rolled over, and began singing the first song that came into his head at all hours of the night to try and forget he'd seen that. Creepy ass little game system...

He'd taken to peering carefully into his room the next morning, and slamming the door open just to see if he could catch it in action...

"Seriously Miles. You've got issues."

But though he was paranoid and crazy perhaps, he KNEW he wasn't one to hallucinate. So when the soda machine gave him the umpteenth free soda again, he stared hard at it. Freaky thing...reminded him of that little X-box... Almost as if... Another can deposited itself in the receptor. "I KNEW IT!" He cried, jumping back in the corridor, pointing a finger at the blasted thing. "You're like, possessed or something! And you're playing with me!" His heart pounded hard in his chest, adrenaline pumping through him as he narrowed his eyes at the machine. He WASN'T CRAZY.

But then, the machine did something even more bizarre... it rattled. It actually SHOOK on it's own.

Dude...

He slowly crept forward and took the second can, not looking away from the machine, snagged the can and took a few steps back. "You're not like, trying to poison me or something are you?" he asked warily, his head spinning. He was talking to a damn soda machine...

And to his shock, another one dumped out. "Dude, no way... no way, I don't want another one!"

And what happened next made Miles freeze, eyes wide in horror, as before his very eyes, a mechanical hand came from inside the machine, snagged the soda, and pulled it back up into the center of the machine. "Holy... No way, dude...no friggin' way." He stared at the can in his hand and tentatively held it back out, slipping it back into the dispenser. "Look I don't want to drink that sludge if it's gonna make me hallucinate!"

Miles almost screamed at what happened next. Gleaming evil green eyes unfolded on metal rods, blinking down at him from above.

"WHOA!" He jumped back, dropping the soda which burst and began spraying the neon yellow green liquid everywhere as the boy backed up, staring wide-eyed up at the strange appendages staring down at him. "Dude...w...what ARE you?" When the machine didn't answer, he slowly crept forward, staring up at the green optics blinking down at him and tried to ignore the bubbling hiss of escaping soda spraying his pants leg. When he got no reply, the boy poked the plastic front of the machine, watching the display bounce lightly at the touch. "You're not gonna like... eat me or something?" He leapt back when a strange digital sound emanated from the machine, something DEFINATELY not part of the normal operations.

Miles felt faint, as before his very eyes, a mechanical arm unfolded from the side of the soda machine, and reached towards him, claws grasping for his throat...ready to strangle him...silence him for discovering the evil green robot's secret...

Oh wait... it was picking up the litter. The mechanical arm snaked out, picked up the spraying soda can, and did a toss to the nearest waste can that would have made Shaq proud. It then grabbed another soda, and held it out towards him, clearly inviting him to take it. Miles stared, jaw slack as his eyes focused on the soda, and slowly he reached out and took it, watching as the robot's arm slid back inside the machine, vanishing from sight, the eyes on top blinking once and pulling down out of sight again, as the machine turned back into an ordinary soda vendor.

_No friggin' way..._

Miles couldn't even begin to figure this out, as he stared at the soda. It was some kind of alien...it HAD to be. Nothing was THAT freaky and earth made. Or maybe an escaped government experiment… hiding in the high school where they couldn't track it.

And it had revealed itself to HIM.

_Cool._

The next few days Miles was in a strange euphoria. His little secret seemed to expand even more, once he realized what was going on with the soda machine, he began to check the toaster, the fridge, the microwave, until he realized that there was at least one more freaky machine in his house.

The X-box.

He slowly crept into his room, staring intently around. Nothing had changed. the X-box sat on his shelf, unmoving as usual. The top shelf again. His eyes narrowed, and he slipped inside, locked his door and crouched down directly in front of it, and stared.

It didn't move.

Miles eyed a pencil on the floor, picked it up, and began to poke the X-box...

Over...

And over...

And over...

Poke.

Poke.

Poke.

It didn't take long. After about the tenth poke, he noticed the thing rattle a bit, obviously irritated at his constant prodding. So he kept prodding.

Poke.

Poke. Poke.

Poke poke poke.

It happened so swiftly, he almost missed it entirely.

There was an odd digital sound, then suddenly the X-box flipped over on it's side, and limbs exploded from it's case in all directions, as a small silver robot only about three or four feet high formed out of shifting rotating parts, it's eyes glowing the same neon greenish yellow that the soda machine had displayed, only this one had a strange little gun aimed right at him, and let out a low tone of beeps and chirps that sounded exactly like the startup tones of the game system. Mile's eyes went cross-eyed, staring at the glowing green cannon-like gun aimed at him.

Damn that thing was freaky.

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath, until there was a small pulse from the tiny X-bot, and the pencil he'd been holding suddenly shortened three inches to a blackened stub. He gasped, and promptly dropped it. "Dude, chill ok!" He protested quickly, staring at the robot wide-eyed, his heart pounding in his chest. "I just wanted to see what you'd do...if you were like that soda machine thing." The small X-bot tilted it's head, bright green eyes that looked like funky headlights flickering at him, and chirping a questioning tone. "Yeah, the soda machine kinda...kept giving me free sodas... then did...well something like you just...it didn't turn into a little walking deathtrap." The X-bot stared at him a moment, then suddenly the little green cannon on it's arm powered down with a whirr, and clicked back into it's skinny little silver arm. Miles let out a sigh of relief, then knelt down to be closer to the thing. "S..so what are you?" He asked curiously, his fear overcome now that he knew he wouldn't get a blast to someplace sacred.

The X-bot tilted it's head and replied with a series of tones again, then pulled the switcheroo thing again, landing on his lap as the x-box, and re-transforming in one swift move. Miles laughed nervously.

"Great... I got two weird alien robots stalking me."

His first thought was, DON'T tell Sam about this. He had enough problems to worry about.

Besides… this was just WAY too cool to share.

* * *

_Author's note: About Dewbot's green optics... that's explained later I know he has red initially. He changed it._


	7. Chapter 4: Languages

_**How it Is**__  
__**Chapter Four: Languages**__  
__By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Sam's head was still spinning. 

The aircraft was huge. He'd seen things like this in movies, but never in person.

He did say it was huge, right?

Captain Lennox had met them at the base around sundown, next to this massive plane that looked as if it were made JUST to carry massive transforming robots. Both Bumblebee and Barricade could stand up inside without fear of bumping their heads, and Sam had the suspicion that though Optimus might have had to crunch, sitting would have been comfortable for him. They'd been ushered aboard, the robots transforming and sitting down in the rear. Lennox had offered restraints for them, recommending it would be easier for takeoff, and they had strapped themselves down. Lennox had also recommended Sam and Mikaela join him in the more human-sized section for take-off, but were welcome to wander once they were airborne. So, they sat down in the rather plush but rough canvas military seats as the massive plane rumbled and took off down the runway. Sam hated flying. It usually made him feel airsick. He found it was even worse when you couldn't see out a window. He clutched to the belts strapping him in, sinking lower and lower trying to hold down his dinner. He knew he shouldn't have eaten right before they'd left. Mikaela's hand on his helped a bit. He did his best to smile, and decided talk would help him. "So um… what made you get into cars? I mean, I know your dad n stuff but… was there any other reason?"

She smiled a bit. "Yeah actually there was one more thing…" She suddenly flushed, and glanced over at him slyly. "You'll laugh though."

"Promise I won't."

"Well there was this old TV show I used to watch when I was bored… had to do with cars. And there was this one mechanic who was a woman…" She smiled a bit. "She was sexy, but knew tons… everyone relied on her."

"Oh? What show was it?"

She paused then blushed. "Knight Rider."

Sam choked out a small strangled laugh. "No kidding? Isn't that the one with…"

"With talking cars? Yes." She said, smirking. "Irony bites us in the ass hard sometimes."

He was very glad when the plane finally straightened it's trajectory and Lennox came back in letting them know they could wander if they liked. Sam had taken several deep breaths before deciding that his spinning head wasn't going to let him lose his lunch just yet, and gotten up to wander back into the cargo bay with Mikaela.

They found Bumblebee sitting, still strapped to the bulkhead, watching Barricade, and Barricade staring blankly at a wall, arms crossed, lounging out of his restraints bored.

"Hey Bee." Sam called, and the scout's head snapped around to tilt towards them.

"Hello Sam. I take it I can un-harness now?"

"Yeah. We'll be like this for a while so you can stretch your legs a bit if you want."

Bee nodded and did so, stretching his joints with some whirring and creaking of parts. "You appear distressed, Sam. Are you feeling well?"

"Ah I'm fine Bee. Just a bit airsick is all."

"Air sick? What is that?" Bee tilted his head, preferring to ask the question rather than look it up on the internet. It showed his trust and reliance on his human ward. Besides, he probably didn't have wireless access at 10,000 feet. Then again, who knows.

"Um… well the human brain is kind of sensitive." Sam said scrunching up his nose. "Sometimes the signals get scrambled… has to do with the inner ear and equilibrium… some people get it disturbed more than others, and this means they get sick from moving when they can't see where they're going."

Mikaela stared at him surprised. Had he just said equilibrium…? And used it correctly in a sentence? Bee just nodded. "I see. And your human equilibrium is imbalanced in this way?"

"Yeah. Always has been. I hate flying." Sam said, sitting down next to his yellow guardian. "Worse when it's this big thing. I feel like I'm in some big metal monster's belly."

"I admit, the sensation is peculiar." Bee mused. "I have not flown before inside another structure. On Cybertron we had ships, but most of them were destroyed early in the war. I never had the opportunity to ride in one. I believe they had internal dampeners to avoid the sensation of motion. It is not so good on mechanical systems if gravity is placed in the equation."

"Yeah I believe that." Sam said, his eyes roaming over to the ex-con, whose eyes had stopped glowing. "What's he up to?"

"Recharging." Bee said, looking up. "He asked me to signal upon arrival."

"Great." Mikaela said with a sigh. "So he won't hear us talking while he's… sleeping?"

"No." Bee agreed. "He will not wake unless signaled, or if there is a disturbance."

"Good. That weirdo freaks me out, majorly." Mikeala shivered.

Their journey was fairly uneventful. Captain Lennox came in to join them after a while, and taught them the fine logistics of playing Poker. Bumblebee caught on quickly, but unfortunately was not that good at bluffing. He wasn't able to wrap his circuits around the concept and commented it seemed like a Decepticon tactic, though Sam was sure if he had figured it out, it would have been impossible to call his bluff, since the robot had no 'facial expressions' to give himself away. Lennox won hands down and after that, they all retired for some rest in the bunks, while Bee powered down himself, but on stand-by mode in case he needed to wake up quickly, or if Barricade so much as twitched a neuron.

* * *

_Transmission source identified. Location unknown. Scrambled signal. Requesting communications._

_Hello?_

_Identify yourself._

_Um… who are you?_

_Source of signal cannot be confirmed. Identify yourself._

_I don't know what's going on…someone explain this… _

"Sam? Sam?"

Sam rolled over with a groan as he felt himself being lightly prodded. "Wha…?" He nearly fell out of the bunk, seeing a giant blue eye glowing in front of him, a large yellow finger having been what had poked at him in the narrow corridor. "Bee? What's up?" He asked groggily, poking his head out of the bunk to stare into the cargo bay through the doorway.

"You were calling out in your recharge state. Are you all right?" The Autobot looked concerned, his blue optics studying him intently.

"Uh… probably just a dream." Sam said, yawning. "I don't remember anything of it though."

"Very well." Bumblebee looked concerned still. "Captain Lennox informed me that we will be beginning our descent soon."

"Great." Sam stretched and slid out of the bunk, sliding out of the small room into the cargo bay so he could speak with his guardian. "So where are we heading once we land?"

"Optimus is not certain where the objects landed. He cannot get a reading on them, so it may not be anything more than meteors."

"Yeah but on the other hand…"

"You are correct." Bumblebee said. "It could be Decepticons masking their signals. That is why we must make sure."

"Got it. So where did these things land?"

"Somewhere in the central part of the country, west of Sydney. I believe it was some tourists near Ayres Rock that called it in."

"Great… out in the middle of nowhere, eh?"

"It is a choice place to land, for our kind. Empty space, few people around."

"Yeah, well it's also the last place you'd expect to find some fancy supped up car, so unless they're hiding out as old beat up jeeps, they're going to stand out."

"Point taken. But they may very well have chosen such disguises. It still puzzles me why if these are Autobots, they chose to land away from Prime's locator beacon. I would expect we must be careful." Bumblebee pointed out.

"Yeah I guess." He felt the plane shift beneath them, his stomach doing a small flip as he groaned, and slunk down to sit on the metal surface. He hated flying. "I can't wait until we're on the ground."

"I find it amusing that you puny maggots are so frail within the body of this metal contraption you build, yet you find nothing wrong with 'tearing rubber' on pavement."

Sam glanced up to see Barricade's red optics glowing at him. "Yeah, yeah, well… sue me." He glared at Bee accusingly, wishing the Autobot hadn't woken their companion so soon. "I'm going to go strap in for landing. You guys better do that too or you'll dent your finish." He got up and went to the forward, seeing Mikaela was already up, along with Lennox, as Sam caught one small flash of light as the Captain moved up front to join the pilots. Sam sunk into the seat and strapped in, taking deep breaths as the plan dipped down and started their descent.

He was glad to be on the ground, but his head was still spinning.

One glance around told him they were somewhere else entirely. It was hotter here, the sun directly above in an early morning sunrise, and the dusty landing strip looked like any other airbase he'd been in before. The same planes, the same trucks, the only difference he noticed, was that they were driving on the wrong side of the road, and the steering wheel was on the wrong side of the car, as a jeep rumbled up to them.

"'ello Captain." A weathered man with wispy sand colored hand came up to them, saluting to Lennox as he stopped before him. "Welcome to Edinburgh Royal Air Base, gentlemen… ah and sheela I see." He grinned, and tipped an invisible hat to Mikaela as she walked out, her dark hair blowing in the hot wind. "You'll be wanting to rest up and shower before heading out, no doubt. I've got vehicles standing…" He paused as the two cars rolled down the ramp. "Oh I see you brought your own." He looked a little amused at the idea, as he watched the fancy Camaro and Saleen come to a stop, windows reflecting the bright sunlight just right so he had to shield his eyes and couldn't see the drivers, or lack thereof. "I hate to point it out, mates… but these cars'll stand out here.. get em real dirty and beat up if you're going off-roading…"

"Don't worry about it, they have special qualities." Lennox said shrugging. "Special military clearance. We take responsibility for any damage."

"All right then. Come this way and we'll get you set up with some maps." He sat down in the jeep as the rest of the humans piled in. Sam was so glad to be out in the sunlight at last that he closed his eyes and leaned back in the rear seat, the hot sun warming him like a sleepy nap. He'd never been to another country before, and found it odd how similar it looked to home, actually.

He felt a prod in his ribs and cracked an eye open. "Enjoying yourself?" Mikaela was smirking at him. "You'll get a sunburn if you're not careful."

"Who cares." Sam said with a content sigh. "Sunlight never felt so good. I was going nuts in there."

"You sound pathetic." She teased him, leaning back herself. "But it is pretty cool…"

They made their way into the base, showered, dressed in more appropriate travel clothes, and had a good solid meal before they met up with the others again. Captain Lennox was loading gear into an off-roading jeep, including guns and explosives, camping gear, food and water, and other things contained in metal boxes. "You think we'll really need all that?" Sam asked, blinking at the gear. "I mean.. we got…" he thumbed over at Bee and Barricade, who were waiting in the shade.

"Never know kid. Besides, as many times as I've ridden with Ironhide, I still can't get used to the fact of a living being toting me around. I prefer to drive myself, and we might need it if something happens." He pointed out. "It's best to be prepared rather than depending on alien robots to tote you around, kid." Sam felt a little resentful, but didn't reply. He supposed the military man had his reasons, and he couldn't say he was disappointed having all that gear with them. "Besides kid." Will turned to face him, leaning on the jeep. "Where the hell did you expect this stuff to go? In them?" he thumbed back at the two cars. "What happens when they decide to get up and walk off, there goes our gear. Trust me, better for us, and them this way."

Oh right… good point.

Sam still felt a bit nervous as he slid into the open top jeep, at Lennox's insistence. He'd pointed out that from here on out, they could be targets. If they rode in the bots, then that meant if they were caught in battle they'd have to run before they could change shape. He really couldn't protest, as he and Mikaela sat in the back seat, the wind blowing through their hair, sun glinting off military issue glasses as the three cars tore down the road at a high rate of speed, heading for the Australian interstate, heading north. It was going to take some time to get to their location, even booking it, and they had to stay within the limit on the main road. It was quite the adventure too, Sam thought as he stared across the empty rugged country spreading out on all sides. It was like the entire continent was desert, open brush, rugged rocks and cliffs and little green. After a while, he yawned and leaned back, snoozing off in the sun as they raced down the road. He didn't wake again until Mikaela prodded him awake with a rough jab of her elbow. "Psst. Lazy. Come on wake up, we're stopping for the night."

Sam opened his eyes to see the sun had set low in the horizon, and they were along some old gravel road that had the jeep bouncing around wildly. How he'd not woken up when THAT happened, he had no clue. "Um. Where are we?"

"Somewhere southeast of our destination." Lennox said, pulling the jeep over and starting off into the desert, tearing over a couple hills before finally stopping away from the road, out of sight. He parked, and jumped out as the kids joined him. "Hang tight a moment. Bumblebee, can you do a quick scan for any animal life forms out here? I know there's some pretty deadly snakes that live in this area."

Behind them, the Camaro shifted and stood up, glancing around before he pushed a finger to the side of his head, and bright blue optics scanned thoroughly around. "There are some small burrowing rodents five meters below the ground, a few prowling pack animals to the west approximately five miles, and various forms of small insects." Bumblebee reported at last. "There are some reptilian signatures under the rocky outcropping five hundred meters due south, but none in this immediate area." Bumblebee lifted an arm as his cannon popped out. He did something to it with one hand and pointed it at the ground. There was a brilliant blue blast and a feeling of some kind of explosive shockwave, but no sound other than a dull thump, as the blue light spread out all around them, traveling over the hills and fading in the distance. "I have sent an electromagnetic pulse out. It should last until sunrise. Any organic life forms that were not introduced to it's initial pulse will find it highly uncomfortable and not enter the field."

"Great." Lennox said, popping open one of the metal cases. "That makes my job easier. Come on kids, help me set these tents up."

Together, by the light provided from Bumblebee, they set up camp quickly, and had a fire going in no time. The night was silent, save for the sounds of crickets and other bugs singing into the night, the wind had died down, and the stars were coming out one by one, shining brightly and crisp with no city lights to interfere. Sam caught himself staring upwards for a long time, until he realized Bumblebee had sat down beside him and was doing the same thing as Sam ate his rationed dinner. "It's beautiful isn't it?" He asked quietly of his guardian, and got a silent nod in response. "Is Cybertron out there somewhere? I mean, could we see it?"

Bumblebee tilted his head, staring upwards. "I'm not certain Sam. There are many stars. While I could give you an estimated area to search, I am not familiar with the star patterns in this part of the world. I would have to do calculations to determine where Cybertron once was… but even so, we would not be able to see it, it is too far away, and too ravaged by now."

"Too bad." Sam said quietly. "You've seen my home, I wish I could see what yours was like."

Bumblebee glanced down at his ward and tilted his head in the curious expression he often bore. "Perhaps not our old home, but you know our new one Sam. That is as good as anything. Earth is our home now."

Sam smiled at that. "Yeah. I guess you're right. Still… wish I could travel to other planets. Must be really cool."

Bumblebee hesitated a moment before replying. "Yes, it is 'cool'. I could share the images I experienced in my travels with you sometime if you like. I stored those memories in my data banks because I found them so interesting."

"I'd love to see 'em." Sam grinned.

They spent the night there, in the middle of the Australian desert. But sometime in the middle of the night, Sam woke with a start, covered in sweat. He didn't know why, but there was something tugging at him. He got up and snuck out of his tent and walked a short distance away to relieve himself. In the middle of doing so, bright glowing red optics peered up at him from the rise directly in front of him. "Oh crap!" Sam jumped and quickly stuffed his personals back inside his pants. "What the hell Barricade." He hissed. "Some privacy please?!"

"You are not supposed to be out here alone." The ex-con admonished, seeming to take too much joy in having scared the crap out of Sam. _"You biologicals and your functions… I'll never understand it. Disgusting."_

"Yeah well, sorry to inconvenience you." He hissed. "What are you doing scaring the crap out of me like that?" He tried to ignore the fact that Barricade was staring at him oddly.

"I heard you muttering in your sleep." The mech said, all trace of amusement gone. "It was very distracting."

"Yeah well, I don't listen to you while you recharge."

"I don't speak in my recharge state."

"So…whatever." Sam ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at the robot. But to his dismay, Barricade continued staring at him. "What?" he asked crossly.

"You are incredibly dense."

"Why?"

"When did you pick up Cybertronian?"

Sam blinked. "Huh?" He scratched his head, staring at the robot baffled.

"You understand it." Barricade frowned, crossing his arms.

"No I don't."

_"Yes you do."_

"Don't."

_"Yes you do."_

"No way. It's impossible, even if I had a radio or something. It's all like beeps and stuff."

"_Yet you do."_ Barricade said evenly, staring at him intently, his glowing red eyes intense.

"Yeah right, whatever." Sam sighed, waving the robot off. If he wanted to play practical jokes, fine, so be it. "You wanna believe your fantasies, fine."

To his shock and surprise, Barricade moved faster than he thought the robot could possibly move. In one swift motion, Sam found himself clutched in a rather tight squeezed hand, staring directly into the robots face, inches away from those glowing hate-filled eyes. _"Do not toy with me maggot."_ He hissed darkly. And this time… Sam caught it. It was subtle, but there, like a background music playing softly. He could hear the beeps and warbles, the fluctuations and rotations of tone… Barricade was speaking his native language. And Sam understood him.

His mouth fell open. "Holy shit…."


	8. Interlude Four: Judy Witwicky

_**How it Is**__  
__**Interlude Four: Judy Witwicky **__  
__By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"What are you doing?" The sudden voice startled her, and her head jerked up to spot the irritated face of her husband poking into the room, watching her. "Judy, we've talked about this. Sam's personal space is his. I don't know why you have to keep poking around inside when he's not around all the time." 

"I'm not POKING." Judy Witwicky insisted, straightening up and placing her hands on her hips. "For goodness sake, Ron. I'm just concerned about Sam."

"Why? He's been doing well in school, leave him be." Ron said calmly, stepping into the doorway and crossing his arms.

"Aren't you the least bit worried?" She asked frowning at her husband. "School isn't everything, what about that nice girl he snuck in here? I haven't seen her come around at all the last month!"

"I dunno, Judy." Ron said with a sigh, throwing his hands up. "And I don't want to ask. Sam's got enough on his plate right now with worrying about school. For God's sake, just leave him alone."

"Fine fine." She huffed, waving her husband away. "Let me just straighten things up a bit, he's still a slob."

Ron rolled his eyes again, but walked back down the corridor, leaving his wife be. It wasn't until his footsteps faded into the background noise that she turned back to her son's room and gazed around disapprovingly. The answer to her son's behavior was here, she KNEW it. She just had to find it.

Now, Judy didn't consider herself nosy, though she had been accused of such by both the males in the household. No, she just considered herself thorough. She wanted to find answers when something puzzled her, and her son's recent behavior fit that category to a T.

It had started the day Ron bought him that stupid piece of crap car...

Ron had INSISTED on getting that piece of junk instead of something from his OWN dealership, something she'd argued against, pointing out he could afford better for their son. However, as she was apparently not a car aficionado, he'd told her flat that Sam's first car was supposed to be a junker so he could beat it up a bit. And it was cheaper. She KNEW there was something fishy with that thing the moment she'd laid eyes on it. They had come back from their excursion, Sam was dropping off his bag and grabbing a bite before he was going to head out again. Judy had approached the car and stared at it distastefully. Rust spots, dent, faded dull paint, and wheels that looked more fit to be in a demolition derby than riding down the street. She lightly put a finger on the hood and drew it along the roof, staring at the grime on it. "For crying out loud, couldn't Ron have at least CLEANED it before taking it home?" She muttered. She stuck her head inside the open window. "Well, insides' clean at least." She commented, staring at the black leather interior appraisingly, and eyeballing the radio. She didn't know much about cars, and wanted less to do with them. However, a good radio was important. She sat down inside the car, opening it's squeaky door with a glance back at the house, pushing her gardening hat back a bit as she half-sat inside. "I hope you play good music. A boy's got to listen to his tunes, these days." She murmured to herself, opening the glove box only to find dust in there. She sat back, then patted the steering wheel fondly. "Well, if you get out and get him a girl, I promise I'll welcome you into my home." And she slid out, closing the door, completely missing the flicker of headlights as she walked off...

That following night was when all hell broke loose.

Sam had been weird all day. It was a Saturday, so he'd slept in past noon, but oddly enough his Car was gone. Judy just assumed he'd parked it at Miles' house then walked over, after all it wasn't far. So she'd headed out, done her shopping and come back to finish up gardening. Her Begonias looked lovely, and smelled delightful. She was going to be the hit of the garden club, she just knew it. As the evening wore on, she and Ron had relaxed, talked, and that's when Sam had come home.

Weird things happened after that.

Sure, the earthquakes were normal, they were near a fault line. The power outage could be blamed on the earthquake.

But when she saw that girl in Sam's room, she had almost bubbled with glee. Ron had seen to it they didn't stay long, and they'd slipped back downstairs amidst chatter, only to have their doorbell ring only moments later.

It was a night she'd never forget. Lights, sirens, being manhandled by silent MIB's...Poor Mojo had been TRAUMATIZED, shivering in her arms as the two of them sat silently fuming in some dark metal room with no windows. That awful man had questioned them for HOURS. He'd kept going on about NBE's, whatever that was, and high levels of radiation on her son. Both of them of course didn't know anything, and after a while a mustached man had come in, talked quietly with the interrogator, and they'd both been let go, given formal apologies, and asked to keep their mouths shut.

The NERVE.

Still, that didn't explain Sam's odd behavior.

The Witwickys were pretty laid back parents. Judy often set the rules but let Ron enforce them, and he usually let Sam get off most punishments. She KNEW that Sam had certain things in his room that he probably would have professed innocently that he'd had no knowledge of having. Still, she knew boys. Boys would be boys, really. She couldn't say she approved, but she couldn't exactly ban what he hid from them anyway, so she let him get away with it. She could really care less about his little collection of Busted Beauties.

No, she was more interested in why Sam suddenly was getting straight A's.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that all of this had something to do with those government ...people. She scowled at the memory. The NERVE of them! Not only had they barged into their home, arrested them on NO evidence of wrongdoing, interrogated them for hours about ALIENS, then let them go.. they hadn't even repaired the garden that they had completely trashed! HER garden, and Ron's carefully laid, if a bit wobbly, path. Even the fountain had been completely crushed. She didn't even WANT to know how they'd done that. Nonetheless, they had offered to repair the damage, and even sent out professional landscapers to completely re-do the garden. Now, it was far better than either of them could have planted. Now the whole neighborhood wanted to know how she'd done such a good job! It was murder at her garden parties. But she knew. OH she knew. There was something fishy here...and it wasn't the smell from Sam's shoes.

There was something rotten in Tranquility.

Ron didn't think so. He just told her that she was being paranoid, and the government knew what it was doing, so they should trust it. Judy smiled and nodded to pacify him, after all trying to get Sparky to move his mind was like pushing at the side of a brick house. Sam had gotten that trait from him.

So she had to satisfy herself with sneaking around when her husband was otherwise occupied.

"Honey, I'm going down to the dealership!" He called, slamming the front door.

"Ok! Be home for dinner!" She called back, listening as the roar of his Porsche started up and roared down the driveway.

Perfect. Now she could do some digging.

There was an art to Motherly Snooping. If they had ever published a handbook on it, chances are Judy Witwicky would have read it. The first thing she did was check his sock drawer. Each rolled up knot of fabric was squeezed, sniffed and put carefully back into place. Kids liked to hide drugs in their socks, it was said. She closed the drawer, careful to leave it half-open since that's how it had been when she found it. She patted his shirts and jeans down, then moved onto his closet, poking about his shoes, jackets and various boxes strewn on the floor. She peered at the shelf above, and noticed the hair she'd placed on top of each box seemed to still be there. He hadn't gone into those, perfect. Her next stop was the black case under his stacks of books. Oddly enough, he hadn't opened THAT one either.

Judy knew something was wrong if Sam hadn't opened his 'secret stash of magazines' recently.

Very well, on to the next hurdle. She sat down in Sam's busted computer chair, careful not to sit too far back as the thing had a tendency to tip over, and flipped his computer on. She cracked her knuckles a little and stared intently at the screen as it booted up slowly. First, she checked Sam's favorite places to store information, downloads, music, etc. Nothing. He hadn't gotten anything new. Ok, emails. She ran through the list as she pulled up his message box, frowning. Miles. Miles. Miles. Miles. Miles. Spam. Miles. Miles. Miles. Ebay. Miles. Miles. Miles. Miles.

And that was just in the last hour.

Sam hadn't opened an email from Miles for several weeks. Now THAT was odd. Very odd.

There were no messages from that nice girl of his... and no usual chat logs from his instant messaging program.

There were many links to newsgroups, and other major news websites, a whole long list of them.

This was even more strange. Since when had HER Sam paid attention to current affairs?

Perhaps it was a research project for social studies...

Finding nothing incriminating there, Judy Witwicky made sure to close everything out, then shut the computer down. So far, she'd struck out. She opened his backpack, pulling out his binders full of loose leaf paper, falling out all over before she could stop it. She sighed in frustration, murmuring some choice words. "For the love of Pete..." And bent down picking up the papers and lining them back up inside the folder. Each one held no answers. Notes on English, some doodling in the margins, half-legible scribbles...

She sighed and put the papers back in the binder, and put the binder back in his pack. He'd never noticed they were out of order, he was so disorganized. Standing up, Judy glanced around the room, and frowned.

Nothing. Nothing to tell her why her son was suddenly the perfect student, doing well in school, remembering his chores, coming home for curfew... No drugs, no secret notes to girlfriends. On a whim she checked his bedside table, and was surprised to find his phone. Well, she supposed that he didn't need it while camping with his friends.

Wait...

Miles had emailed him less than an hour ago...

Miles was supposed to be camping with Sam this whole weekend.

Judy Witwicky began to smile.

* * *

"Hello? Miles?" 

"Yeah?" A pause followed by a soft 'shhh'ing noise.

"It's Sam's mother."

"Oh! Hi Mrs. Witwicky."

"I'm just wondering how the trip is going."

Pause. "Trip?"

"Yes, you and Sam were camping at the lake this weekend?"

Another pause, followed by a strange static sound. "Um...camping? No." Miles suddenly sounded rather sullen. "Sam hasn't like, spoken to me in a week."

"Really? Oh dear." Judy said, putting her cheek in her hand, concern etching her face as she stared out the window, phone against one ear. "You don't know where he might be do you?"

"No, sorry." The shhhing noise again, followed by a muffled yelp.

"Well sorry for bothering you, Miles."

"No prob, Mrs. Witwicky. Oh and if you DO find Sam, tell him to stop ignoring me?"

"Sure, Miles. You take care."

"Thanks." A sudden rustling sound suddenly cut the conversation off with a sudden disconnection.

Judy blinked at the phone. "Boys." She murmured. So. Sam had lied. He WASN'T camping with his friends.

Well, maybe he wasn't friends with Miles anymore? Not likely, the two had been practically inseparable since grade school. They hung out every weekend. Except for the last few... ever since THAT weekend.

Maybe the feds had blackmailed Sam somehow? Her teeth ground at the thought. Oh no, not HER little boy. She wasn't going to let him become a government patsy!

She picked up the phone again and dialed a different number. It rang a few times before Ron picked up. "Judy, what?! I'm in the middle of a sale for Pete's sake! I told you not to call me unless it's an emergency."

"It is an emergency Ron."

A pause. "What? Sam's hurt?"

"No. What's the name of that stiff man who gave us a ride home? The one with the mustache?"

"Um. Don something?"

"No I think it was Tom. Tom... Manabeck?"

"No...something with a Be. Bob... Bob Trebek?"

"That's Alex Trebek, dear. No...it was Tom.. Ban... Bandamek...Bannanacheck?"

"Banacheck."

"Yes that was it. Do you still have his number?"

"Yeah, it's in the study. Why?"

"Oh don't you worry about it. I'm just going to give him a piece of my mind."

"Jude..."

"Have a nice day, Sparky."

There was a windy sigh over the phone and a muffled. "I told you not to call me that outside of the you-know-where."

"Oh stop being so paranoid! No one can hear me on your cell phone. Now go finish your sale." And she hung up with a smile.

Study, study. Oh yes. She bend down and picked up the small card stuffed in Ron's pencil drawer and studied it. Tom Banacheck, Special Operations, Sector Seven Department Head. Really, what a bunch of ... Well, she wasn't going to think it, very un-ladylike. She dialed the number.

The number rang a few times, then met with a recording.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed is no longer in service... If you would like to..."

Judy punched the 'off' button furiously. "Stupid government MIBs!" She scowled at the phone. "Useless! It's a cover-up! I know it!" She set the phone back in the cradle, and crumbled Tom's business card back up, scowling.

She needed a new angle.

She guessed she'd just have to ask Sam a few delicate questions when he got back from 'camping' with his so-called friends.

Ron needn't know.

* * *

_Author's note: I'm not sure what Ron's profession was, so I just picked what I thought fit him. He LOOKS like a flashy car salesmen, and he has to make money to afford his car and house, so it works _


	9. Chapter 5: The Birds and the Bumblebees

_**How it Is**__  
__**Chapter Five: The Birds and the Bumblebees **__  
__By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"_You were not aware of this?"_ Barricade snarled, sounding incredulous_. "You tell me that you did not know you were doing this?"_

"No…" Sam whispered, a thrill of fear and excitement flooding through him. His own voice sounded meek and small suddenly. "How…?"

Barricade pulled back a little, still staring at him with that intense look, but not glaring so much. _"Your biology is changing."_ He said suddenly, sounding slightly surprised._ "You should be squealing in pain in my grasp."_

Sam blinked. Granted, Barricade was holding him pretty tight, but he didn't feel uncomfortable, just snug. He could breathe fine, nothing pinched. "I'm fine. You're not holding me that tight."

The ex-'con stared back, then reached down picked up a rock and it shattered in his palm. Sam then felt the pressure increase around him, but it wasn't unpleasant, merely uncomfortable. _"This force is three times the amount I put into that bolder."_ Barricade's voice was quiet so his words wouldn't carry, despite the fact he still spoke in his language. _"You should have felt pain by now."_ Sam noted that during this whole conversation, he'd not been referred to by maggot, worm or fleshling. Barricade WAS serious.

Sam felt his head spinning again as he took this in. The gray streaks, the headaches, and now this… He had the feeling there was something he was missing. The math homework.

His brain kicked into gear. "Oh god." He murmured softly. "Do you think…" He lifted his gaze slowly, hesitantly as if afraid to see what Barricade would do. "…do you think that when I held the Allspark… something happened to me?"

Barricade's optics narrowed, as he stared at him. _"That is what I surmised happened to you."_ He said finally. _"I suspected as much when I scanned your systems a few weeks after the battle."_

"What?" Sam blinked. "You were watching me?"

"_Yes."_ Barricade hissed, his tone dark. _"I wanted to crush you for what you did to my comrades. I wanted to make you suffer, rip you limb from limb."_ Sam cringed listening to his words_. "I watched you closely, waiting to get close enough. I noticed your little pet Autobot didn't stick with you for long. It would have been the perfect opportunity. I was going to do it one night, take you where I could play with you. But when I scanned your domicile, I encountered an unusual signature that I could not pinpoint. You had an energy aura about you, one you had not had before. This made me pause. I decided to wait, and watch. With no Autobots around, I felt confidant I could wait a little to see what was going on. I did not want to run into the same… problem… that Megatron did." _Sam winced at that memory. Vaporizing his spark, yeah he couldn't blame him_. "But each scan showed me that your energy aura was growing, and changing. It was stronger when you slept, and weaker when you were conscious."_

Sam felt dizzy listening to him. "So…you were watching me… for a whole month… and that's the reason you joined the Autobots?"

"_Hrmm…"_ The ex-con growled. _"If my suspicions were right, and the Allspark had affected you in some way, I wanted to know exactly how. I needed to get closer to the Autobots in order to do that."_

"So you were using me, is that it?"

"_Yes."_ He said flatly, then snorted_. "Don't get bent out of shape, kid."_Sam blinked at the informal name. _"I wanted to know what exactly was going on with you…and if I needed to take action. The only reason I was with Megatron in the first place was because I felt he had the best chance getting close to the Allspark… well that and I despised Prime's weak outlook on life. Defend the innocent, bah. Winning is everything, no matter how you do it."_

"Real nice morals you've got there." Sam said, shakily. "So, you only wanted to get close to the Allspark… why? And what would you want with ME?"

At that, Barricade's eyes narrowed, staring at him intently and almost suspiciously. He was silent for a long time, their eyes met and unblinking at each other until finally Barricade snarled and looked up, his optics scanning the area. _"That is not your concern right now."_ He snapped. In one move he'd set him back down, and Sam shook his arms a bit, feeling them start to tingle. Barricade had been right, he HAD been holding him tightly. _"Now go back before your Bug breaks an energon valve."_

Sam glanced over his shoulder to see Bumblebee standing tall, glowing blue optics scanning the area in a broad sweep of light. A scanner, Sam knew instinctively. This sudden information had him aptly frightened, and he wasn't talking about his near-death brush with the ex-'con. The sweep continued until it reached him and Bumblebee instantly started forward, obviously having located him. He jogged up the incline on shaky legs and joined him halfway.

"Sam, I was concerned when you vanished from your tent. Where have you been?" His guardian seemed irked.

"Sorry Bee." Sam knew his voice was shaking, and sure enough, Bumblebee noticed.

"Sam?" He knelt down, face coming closer to him. "What is wrong?"

Sam glanced over his shoulder, but didn't see Barricade anywhere. He'd probably split to go back wherever it was he'd been before, obviously close enough to stay in Bumblebee's radar or else the Autobot would have known something was wrong. "Bee…have you noticed anything …different with me?"

Bumblebee tilted his head, obviously puzzled by the question, which answered it anyway. "Different? I have noticed there is an unusual tenseness between you and Mikaela, but I did not think you would wish me to pry."

He smiled. So he'd noticed that too, but not the fact Sam apparently was emitting strange energy patterns. "Yeah… we've been having problems. It's no big deal though." He stood there, staring at his feet then spoke up again. "You can't contact Optimus from this far away can you?"

"No, we are on the curve of the planet, too far for communication to travel. If he were in orbit, I could broadcast, but the frequency must be linear to connect. We can however use Captain Lennox's cellular phone if you require contact. Is there something wrong?" He repeated.

Sam squirmed a little, not sure he should ask him, but still, he was terrified for one and needed some help, and second he was beginning to panic about what this could mean. He didn't want to believe Barricade. At the same time, he was afraid what Bumblebee would think and do if he found out that the 'con was telling the truth. "Um…do you know much about the Allspark?"

Bumblebee blinked his optics, seeming surprised by the question. "I know a little about it, Sam. What do you wish to know?" He shifted positions so he was sitting down beside the human, and Sam climbed up onto his knee, glad for the warmth of the live-metal beneath his legs in the cool desert air.

"Well…" Sam said quietly. "I've been wondering about it. Like… you knew how to change it's shape, right? You got it to go from big to tiny. And it helped heal your voice right?"

"Yes Sam." Bumblebee said nodding, sounding slightly relieved. "There are some who do not know or have the ability to manipulate the Allsparks' energy. A few of us do understand the mechanics. I am one, Optimus Prime is one."

Sam blinked. He hadn't realized that. "The Allspark doesn't work for some?" He asked curiously. Bumblebee nodded. "So Megatron was another huh?"

"Yes, I believe so." Bumblebee agreed.

"How does it work though? I mean, how do you like, make it do what you want it to?"

Bumblebee thought about that, looking curious himself. "I never considered it before, Sam. I just did it. I had not known I was able to manipulate it before that moment, though I had been told I had the ability. I suppose in a way, when I touched it, I could feel it like an extension of myself. I knew what to do, like lifting a leg or an arm. It did what I asked without me even trying."

Sam closed his eyes, trying to imagine that. "You act as if… it were alive almost."

"It may have been." Bumblebee agreed quietly. "We cannot be sure, we didn't have a chance to really communicate with it. But while I don't think it had the same consciousness as you or I."

"What like an animal kind of level?"

"No…" Bumblebee mused. "More like… a very advanced computer, perhaps. I did not sense a self-awareness, merely great power, and instructions on how to use that power. Like it was programming me to use it."

"Oh." Sam said, even more confused. "So what do you think it'd do if someone like me tried to use it… like when I did with Megatron?"

Bumblebee was quiet again, this time for a long period before he spoke up, sounding worried again. "To be honest Sam, that was concerning me for a long time after I heard you had initiated it's energy. To our knowledge, no other species has used it's power before, only our own. It requires a computer interface that you should not have. To hear you had summoned it's power worried me. I am not sure what it's radiation might do to a biological body. And you were able to use it… even not every Autobot can do that." He said uncomfortably, turning his gaze to stare at Sam with a worried expression. "Do you know how you used it?"

"No." Sam said with a small sigh, staring up at the stars, anywhere to avoid his guardian's gaze. "I just… did. I knew I had to use it to stop Megatron. I thought that if I just pushed it into his chest, it'd do what Optimus told me it'd do… like, blow up or something. But then it burned my hands…and I could FEEL the energy streaming from it up into Megatron. It felt hot… everywhere all over me…." He shuddered, remembering that moment. It wasn't a fun feeling. He'd felt like his insides had been boiling, and he'd ached for days after that. "But … Nothing called out to me or anything." He said softly. "Nothing told me 'hey hold me up and blast that dude in the chest' or anything."

"I would have been surprised if it had." Bumblebee smiled, gazing upwards at the starry sky. "I am glad that you are generally unharmed, Sam. I would have been very upset if you had been injured by the Allspark. It can create life, but it can take it as well."

"Yeah." Sam said softly. "Bee… can I ask you something kind of… personal?"

"Certainly Sam, you may ask me anything you like."

He was silent for a moment before he spoke up quietly. "You guys… without the Allspark, how are you going to… you know…keep your people going?"

"Going?" Bumblebee asked confused. "I'm not sure I understand, we do not require the Allspark to continue functioning."

"No I meant… well you guys have like… little robots running around somewhere, right?" He got a blank look. "Offspring? Kids?"

"Oh!" Bumblebee said, sounding surprised. "Yes, I understand now. You mean, will we be able to construct more of ourselves."

"Well yeah, we lost Jazz…"

Bumblebee nodded sadly. "Without the Allspark, there is no way to create life to house the bodies, were we to construct them."

Sam glanced up at his guardian. "What about femmes?"

Bumblebee actually jumped. Sam had to clutch onto his knee's chassis to keep from falling off, as the robot thumped hard against the ground. "How did you hear about femmes, Sam?" He sounded startled.

"Um…" He glanced upwards into startled blue optics. "Barricade kind of… went over the birds and bees of your kind with me, pardon the pun."

Bumblebee blinked, then looked irritated. "I am quite surprised he would tell you about femmes…" He sighed slightly. "They were all eliminated, assassinated I believe you would say, during the war. I am not sure if any more survive." He looked suddenly miserable, and Sam had the suspicion that he wasn't telling him everything.

"Bee… did you know one?"

Bumblebee actually flinched at that, and didn't meet his eyes. "Yes, Sam. I did. We were assigned as partners, but…."

"Got closer than that huh?" Sam grinned. "Bee you 'ol softie, you never said you had a girlfriend."

"It was never like that, Sam." His guardian sighed. "It might have been if not for the war, but we were both soldiers and had our duty to perform. We did not have time for socialization… And… I am not certain if she survived. Her team lost contact shortly before I left home."

Sam felt a surge of pity for his friend, and lightly put his hand on the yellow armor beneath him. "I'm sorry Bee… I can't even imagine what it was like. I'm sorry you lost her."

"Thank you Sam." The robot said, one finger coming down to lightly rest on top of Sam's hand in a gesture of friendship. "I know that humans undergo similar feelings of loss with someone they are close to. I am glad you understand."

That didn't make Sam feel much better, but he smiled up at his friend as they sat there enjoying the heavens spread out above them like a blanket.

"Bee… I think the Allspark did something to me."

He could feel the alarm through his companion's body immediately. "What?" Bumblebee's voice sounded tense. "What do you mean, Sam?"

"I mean…" Sam took a deep breath and forced himself to go through with it. "That a little while ago I noticed weird things happening, headaches and stuff, and then I had weird dreams, and apparently Barricade has been watching me and said I had some kind of energy thing then I did my math homework without realizing it, got it all right and got in trouble cause of it, and I can understand Cybertronian now, and I don't know what to do." He stopped after all that spilled out in a rush, and panted a little bit. "So yeah. I think that constitutes as something. And the fact I KNOW what the word constitute means now…" He sighed, putting his hand over his eyes.

He felt pressure on the back of his head, and looked up to see Bumblebee's large hand attempting to cover his back in a reassuring gesture. "Sam." He said quietly, his voice filled with worry. "I had no idea. I believed that by respecting your privacy and not performing intensive scans you would appreciate my concern. Nothing showed up on my normal analysis. Perhaps I should have performed the action to make sure you were in good health after all."

"It's ok Bee." Sam smiled, putting one of his hands on the thumb nearby his elbow. "I don't think it would have helped anyway. It's not like this is your fault."

"In a way, it is." Bumblebee said almost mournfully. "I was the one who forced you to take the Allspark."

"Someone had to do it Bee. I wasn't going to let Megatron grab it, you couldn't keep carrying it when you were injured. It's not your fault. Casualty of war, right?" Bumblebee made a small warbling sound from his vocal processors that Sam understood to be an indication of unhappiness. "Hey don't sweat it…It's kind of… cool I guess."

"Your body temperature tells me that you are concerned about this, Sam." He replied. "I do not blame you. This worries me too. We must speak with Optimus as soon as possible. Do you think it can wait until morning so we do not have to wake Captain Lennox?"

"Yeah." He said sighing. "It can wait. I already got a head-full from our 'friend' tonight."

"What did he tell you?" Bumblebee sounded angry. "If he damaged your processors with this sudden download of information…"

"Nah… it's better he told me than me finding out later." He said with a faint groan as he leaned back, laying down on Bumblebee's knee to stare at the stars. "At least now I know what's happening to me. It explains the headaches and sudden bouts of genius. And yeah, it freaks me out but at the same time, but you know…" It was strange. He felt elated when he knew he should be afraid. He glanced backwards at Bumblebee, and grinned. "It's kinda cool. I mean, geeze first giant alien robots land. That's friggin awesome. Freaky, yeah but cool. Then this… I mean, before today, I was just asking myself what the hell I wanted to do with my life. I really was asking, and I couldn't figure out what made me… unique. Like, Mikaela, she's all set to be Ratchet's intern or something. Captain Lennox, well he's all happy doing what he does for a living, and he gets to go out and do stuff like this with you guys, I know he likes that." He sighed. "But me… I was never good at much, Bee. I never knew where I wanted to go in life. I was just a geek. Then you guys come into the mix and life just seems dull and boring without you… it sucked going through the last month without you." Bumblebee listened in silence as Sam continued to talk. He seemed to understand he needed to relieve the pressure in his chest, and simply took it in, watching. "Now… I mean, sure I'm freaked out now about this, but I don't think it's really, you know, struck me. It's just too much to really believe, even though Barricade crushed a boulder in his fist, and couldn't even scratch me…it didn't even hurt." He swallowed hard, feeling his throat claming up. "I'm not sure what to think of that. What's going to happen to me?"

"I'm not sure, Sam. I can scan you if you'd like." Bumblebee offered quietly.

Sam thought about it. Did he want to know? Not really. It terrified him. What if he found out he was the next Terminator or something? He shuddered. At the same time, he wanted to know what he was getting himself into. After all, he was the one responsible for the Allsparks' destruction, it was their right to know if SOMETHING had somehow miraculously survived. "Um… yeah go ahead. But if it's really bad… don't tell me, ok?"

"Very well." Bumblebee said softly, and Sam saw blue light surrounding him but felt nothing as the scan progressed. After a moment it shut off, and the scout remained silent. Sam slowly looked up after a minute, to see Bumblebee's optics flickering as if going over the data internally. Finally after a few minutes, his optics re-focused down on Sam. "It is not…'bad' I think, Sam. Would you like to hear the analysis?"

"Sure." Sam said quietly, bracing himself mentally.

"Your molecular structure is indeed changing. I sense a denser bone structure. This could be what Barricade meant by attempting to crush you and failing. While it is perhaps dangerous for your body, it would not damage any vital systems..."

"Great." Sam muttered. "Metal bones, am I right?"

"That is my guess." Bumblebee said softly. "While I cannot determine the exact composition as it is of unknown origin, it appears to resemble the same metal alloy as our own systems. The process seems to be incomplete however, some portions are less dense than others. I also picked up an increased electrical charge in your body, most humans do not carry one."

"So what, I'm like a big lightning rod?"

There was a pause, presumably as Bumblebee looked up the meaning. "No… the pulse is generating something like…static electricity, or an energy field around you. However the signature…" He paused again and this time saw how uncomfortable he was. "…it is the same as the Allspark."

"Oh, yeah Barricade mentioned that." Sam said blankly, still trying to grasp onto what he was being told.

"I'm not sure what this energy field's function is yet, but it does not seem to be harming you."

"Well that's good at least." He sighed. "Whatever this is, it doesn't seem like it's hurting me. I mean, the headache's are a bit painful sometimes, but it's not like… killing me."

"I hope it remains this way. Really, Sam… you should have informed Ratchet of your headaches. He should have known the moment you believed something was wrong."

"I know, but I didn't think it was anything… crazy like this."

They were silent for a while, and Sam continued to stare at the stars, realizing after a while the sky was getting lighter, but he wasn't really tired. The sun would be up soon, and that meant the others would be getting up.

"_Sam…?"_ Bumblebee's voice asked tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"_So you really did understand what I said then…"_ He mused.

Sam blinked then smacked his forehead with his palm. He'd done it again. Bumblebee had spoken in his own language and he'd not realized it. He sighed. "Yeah, guess so Bee…. I barely notice."

Bumblebee chirped something rapid and fast paced, something that made Sam's ears twitch, but he smiled. "Yeah… I guess it is kind of nice. I'm the ultimate spy for Decepticons…" They lay there in silence again, until Sam heard clinking from the metal pots behind them as someone was up starting breakfast. He got up, smiled tightly at the mech. "Hey um… don't tell anyone except Optimus and Ratchet about this for now, ok? I don't want to worry the others."

"You got it."

* * *

_Author's note: Some of you may have noticed that Bee can scan Sam when Barricade couldn't get a reading at all earlier Good for you, you noticed. Yes, there is an answer. _


	10. Interlude Five: Ron Witwicky

**How it Is**  
**Interlude Five: Ron Witwicky **  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

She was at it again.

Ron Witwicky sighed as he sunk back onto the couch, his eyes lifted up at the ceiling with frustration at his wife. Why she felt the need to constantly rummage through their son's things was beyond him, of course he should have expected it. She'd done the same with him when they first were married, straightening up his things, poking her nose into places she didn't belong. He'd learned quickly that if he wanted something kept private, keep it at work in a locked desk. Anything at home was fair game, even if it DID have a key. He SWORE that her family came from a line of cops who taught all their offspring to pick locks.

But he still loved her. She was a wonderful person, if quirky at times. He supposed it came from a long line of psychotic crazies in the family, and this was how he was able to be calm and just soak everything in. Nope, Ron Witwicky was pretty laid back, though he still raised his head now and then to keep the boy in line. He needed guidance after all, most kids did.

But Ron was worried.

At first, he'd almost panicked thinking that his son had inherited the dormant family loonie gene. It had skipped over Ron but affected his brother, unfortunately. Ron had been worried that Sam would get it, after all his father had been skipped too. When he'd gotten that call to go down to the police station and pick up his son who apparently had broken into a junkyard of all places, Ron didn't believe it. Not Sam. Sam might be a little on the strange side, but he wasn't a criminal, he didn't do drugs, and he did his best to obey the rules they lay out for him. Sam was a good boy.

Ron had gone down to bail him out, sitting there calmly listening as some crazy cop questioned Sam like a scene right out of CSI. The man was nuts, Ron concluded. But then, Sam hadn't really instilled confidence.

"No, It just stood up. My car stood up!"

Stood up, huh? For a moment, Ron had agreed with the cop, and wondered what drugs his son was on. But then again, he knew Sam pretty well, as father/son relationships went. Sam was a good kid. He had the tendency to get flustered, exaggerate and blow things out of proportion, so him saying his car 'just stood up' probably was the result of some kind of adrenaline rush.

But why would he chase it into the junkyard in the first place, or drive it in, or whatever he did. Sam had wanted that car for ages, he probably was just making up stuff so he wouldn't get it taken from him. But still, Ron thought there was something fishy about this whole thing. When they were walking out of the police department, Sam actually voiced the concern he had out loud. "Hey...dad... you don't think that maybe... I got like, grandpa's crazy gene do you?"

Ron glanced down at his son, who was looking somber, and concerned. "I don't think so son." he said clapping the boy on the shoulder with one of his large arms. "Trust me, weirder things have happened than your eyes playing tricks on you. I wouldn't worry about it too much, maybe you're just stressed from school."

"Yeah...maybe."

However, the next day Ron Witwicky began to get inklings that something ELSE was going on. First off, the cops hadn't found the kid's car. Now, if Sam had followed it into the junkyard like he'd claimed, and if thieves had really stolen the car, it was long gone. Ron shook his head, a bit disappointed in Sam for being so careless. However when he came back from running some errands that next morning, he frowned staring at the brand new tire tracks across his green grass. "Well that just beats it all." he muttered. "Sam? Did you run over my lawn last night?" No answer. "Sam?"

"He's gone out, dear." Judy's voice filtered from the house. "Left about an hour ago."

"Great." He muttered, scuffing the grass. "I'm gonna yell at that kid when he gets back."

Of course, that night Sam had behaved even MORE odd. He kept babbling, and Ron knew that when Sam babbled, he was nervous. Plus, he'd come home dirty and sweaty. Something was up, and Sam definitely didn't want him coming out into the yard that night. Ron hadn't pushed him. Whatever he was hiding, it couldn't be that serious. They soon found out it had been that nice young girl, pretty thing she was too. Ron was proud, despite the fact that he knew he'd have to ground Sam for breaking the rules later. Still... it was nice to see him FINALLY into girls. He hung out with Miles far too much.

Of course it was only after that that all hell broke loose. Ron was a pretty calm guy... unless crazy stuff went down, and earthquakes constituted crazy. He'd also had some wine, which didn't help, as he SWORE that when he glanced out a window he'd seen an EYE looking back at him.

Too much wine.

Of course after that things just got worse. Being taken in by some special security ops guys in suits, interrogated and finally just being dumped back at home without so much as a 'sorry for the inconvenience.'.

Ron Witwicky had seen the footprints.

They'd tried to hide it, offering to clean up the mess, but he'd seen them clearly the next morning while the government guys swarmed all over, replacing the damaged foliage. A huge gigantic footprint in his path, on his grass, and (God knows how it got there), on his patio. They weren't footprints like you'd normally see, no these were gigantic things easily as tall as he was, twice as thick and had left spiderweb cracks all over his patio, and intents on his grass. Ron had been at a complete loss to explain it, and the evidence had vanished by the end of the day as the government gardeners had finished repairing the damage.

The next day at work it had been even weirder.

The moment he pulled up to the dealership, he saw a couple cop cars sitting in front. He groaned. _Oh no, not again... _The dealership had suffered a few kids breaking in and stealing some of the concept cars lately, joyriding then leaving them trashed. _PLEASE don't be another expensive insurance claim!_

He got out and stared immediately all thoughts of insurance driven out of his mind at what he saw. Another footprint... as if something heavy had jumped down from the roof, stood in place, then walked over closer to the dealership. One of the neon letters was broken and sparking all over the place on the roof, but no windows broken, and no cars stolen or damaged.

_What the...?_

_"It just stood up!"_

Ron Witwicky blinked as his son's words echoed in his mind again. Maybe he wasn't so crazy after all...

The police didn't have much to offer. They said that they'd dealt with a few claims all across the city, some damage to a pool, a whole business demolished by some meteor landing...

Ron Witwicky's mental wheels began to turn. The feds had questioned them about aliens...UFOs...

Was it possible that it was true?

He sat at his desk, sipping a double mocha, staring at his computer as he checked a few Internet sites out while the insurance agent surveyed the exterior damage to his building.

_Holy! _He leaned forward seeing an odd headline. Baseball stadium damaged by falling meteor. Well golly gee, that stadium was just a block away. Ron Witwicky frowned, tapping a pen against his desk idly. Falling meteors, cars standing up, UFOs and now... His eyes scanned a list of comments on a story about a gas explosion in Mission City. People were pretty angry with the story, insisting that it hadn't been a gas explosion, that they had seen giant figures smashing buildings up, missiles launched, people dead in the streets... A vending machine launching projectile sodas? _What the...?_

Yes, Ron was worried.

Sam had acted strange ever since that weekend. Granted, Ron expected the kid to be quiet after being arrested twice in 24 hours, but he'd been jumpy, jittery, exhausted, and slept all day. Ron also had noticed a few unexplained bruises on the kid's arms. He hadn't asked where they were from, but the whole story Sam had given them was fishy. First of all, it was full of holes. He'd found his car, suddenly, been released separately from them and allowed to drive home on his own, being caught in this mysterious gas explosion, losing his car in the process, and getting beat up a bit before finally being dropped off by a military guy in a sweet black truck.

Yeah... like that made sense.

Ron tapped his fingers on the edge of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling listening to his wife rummage around in Sam's room searching for evidence of some kind of wrongdoing. She wasn't going to find anything, Ron knew. No, Sam wasn't into the normal crap kids his age was. Sure, he had some things up there that Ron had to silently grin at, both parents were aware of that little black case of his. But Sam was a good kid... And Ron knew that whatever he'd been through had changed him, and it had something to do with those MIB's, Mission City, and his car.

The crazy thing was, Ron wasn't concerned about it. He felt, when Sam was ready, he would tell them.

Until then, he was definitely going to keep his eyes peeled for anything unusual.


	11. Chapter 6: Visitors

_**How it Is**__  
__**Chapter Six: Visitors**_

_By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Sam went back to his tent, waving to a surprised Lennox who clearly hadn't expected him up before sunrise, then slipped inside and dressed for the day. He was fairly quiet through breakfast, but smiled and tried to act as if nothing had happened. Bumblebee requested that Lennox try and phone Optimus, but as he tried, the Captain informed them there was no signal this far out in the desert. They would have to wait. Then, when they were ready to go, Sam surprised everyone. "I'm riding with Barricade today."

They all stared at him, including Barricade.

"You're what?" The Decepticon was the first to ask, more like a demand.

"You heard me." He said calmly. "I'm riding with you. End of discussion."

The ex-con opened his vocal processors to protest, but Sam lifted his gaze, and glared back at him firmly, with such force, that the mech stepped back and didn't reply. Everyone stared at Sam as he finished his breakfast, but had the better sense not to say anything. When they were finished packing up, they started off, and Sam climbed into the waiting Saleen as the cars started across the open desert, away from the road.

It wasn't until they had traveled some distance, before Sam spoke up. "Barricade, I want you to level with me." He paused, but the ex-'con didn't reply. "I want to know exactly why you wanted the Allspark. You mentioned the only reason Megatron was who you followed was because you thought he could get it first. What's so important that you had to get to the spark? Why do you want it so bad."

"I don't have to tell you, worm." Barricade growled. "My reasons are my own."

"I'll bet it has to do with you refusing to let Ratchet work on your spark casing." Beneath him, Sam could feel the car swerve, jerking as it ran into a boulder and straightened. He was trying to piss him off! Sam scowled. "What I don't get is why it's such a big deal. Isn't that like, a death blow if that thing gets hit? Why don't you want him fixing it? Did you think that the Allspark could fix it for you instead?" There was a low growl as the car's engine revved. "Well? What's the big secret? Are you secretly a femme in disguise?" He grinned enjoying the little jib.

"Don't be absurd."

"Ok, then what? There has to be SOME secret you're hiding from everyone or you wouldn't have tried to take Ratchet's head off with your cannons."

Barricade was silent, but when he did speak, Sam could hear the grudging surprised respect in his tone. "You are persistent and cunningly intelligent, for a human."

"I thought about it last night while talking with Bee." Sam crossed his arms, staring at the dashboard. "You mentioned you wanted the Allspark, you told me how you followed me cause you thought that I had some kind of residual energy, and then how you joined up with the Autobots just so you could keep a closer eye on me." Sam reminded him, feeling oddly calm about this. He'd had a little time to let it sink in. "So unless you want me to spill the beans to everyone else too, I want to know what you're hiding. I can just tell Bee that you've got some secret and let them pry it out of your noggin if you prefer."

They rode in silence for a very long while, perhaps thirty minutes, but Sam remained patient and quiet, waiting for Barricade to respond. Finally, he did. "Why are you so persistent in wishing to know the reason?"

"Because it's a damn mystery, that's why." Sam said, leaning back, hooking his arms behind his head. "You totally freaked out, and I wanna know why it's such a big deal. Isn't the spark casing like the most important part of your guys' bodies?"

"One of them." Barricade grumbled. "The CPU is another."

"So…what gives?"

"Bah."

Sam rolled his eyes, and felt his anger rising. He wasn't giving up THAT easily. This guy just grated on his nerves like no tomorrow. First, stalking him, then admitting that he was stalking him just for his own nefarious purposes, WHATEVER those were. Now, he wasn't going to co-operate and share anymore information, after already forcing more crap on the human than Sam could already handle. Oh no. He wasn't taking this anymore.

"Look pal…" He said, slamming his fists on the steering wheel, the urge to lash out and strike something suddenly overwhelming.

And that's exactly what happened.

He could feel the surge of electricity running through his body, tingling through him like a buzzing vibration. His fists suddenly began to burn with a painful intensity. Suddenly, his whole scope of vision went white as hot pain flashed through him like a sudden jolt of electricity, briefly forcing him to catch his breath. His brain tried to grasp onto what was happening, but it didn't seem to want to engage, and stalled out for a moment. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, as his vision cleared, and a cool waft of air swept over him as color returned to his eyes, and he stared down at his fists, which were tightly gripping the steering wheel in front of him. He didn't even realize that Barricade had stopped, as had the others, until with a gasp of breath, he finally let the warm air waft into his lungs as he panted for air.

"_LET him GO!"_ he heard an angry chatter through ringing ears.

There was a strange grinding of metal and quivering of the car, as Sam realized what was going on. "No wait…" He gasped, looking up through the glass at his angry guardian. "It's not his fault, I'm fine…really, I'm fine."

Bumblebee stared at him through the glass with faceplate down in full battle mode, but he slowly backed away at Sam's words, shield raising. Sam heard grinding of metal and noticed Barricade's hood had a significant dent.

"Sam…? Sam, what happened?" He glanced over, seeing Mikaela jogging over, and Lennox not far behind. She stared at him, leaning in the open window, her face pale. "Bee just wigged out all of a sudden… he didn't say why…"

"I'm fine…" Sam said feeling faint and dizzy. He was sure his face was white too, because her hand came forward and touched his forehead.

"You're freezing…" she said, sounding confused, which was probably because it had to be near 90 outside.

"Air conditioning." He muttered, trying to find an excuse. "Really, I'm fine."

"Out kid. Come on." Lennox had the door open already, and was tugging on his arm. Sam tried to resist, but finally let himself be pulled out, his hands still tightly pushed together. He didn't want them to see… he was afraid what the pulsing between his fists meant. Lennox had him out and leaning against Barricade's hood, as he put a hand to his forehead and checked his vitals. "Pulse is fast… but your skin is ice cold." He frowned, and peered into his eyes. "Pupils contracted. You didn't take anything weird did you?"

"Sam doesn't do drugs." Mikaela insisted scowling.

"Bumblebee?" Lennox was already asking, but the Autobot was keeping his distance, oddly, with a strange expression in his optics. "What do you think?"

"….I cannot read him." Bumblebee said in a very quiet voice.

"Why not?" Lennox demanded.

Sam saw the scout glance his way, and knew unconsciously what to say, as fear pounded in his chest. "I asked him not to scan me… privacy thing."

"Hm… well if that's what you want. You sure you're ok, kid? You look like crap."

"I'm fine. Really. It's nothing, let's just keep going. It's probably just jet lag."

He got another stare from the two humans, especially Mikaela, but finally they went back to their vehicle, as Sam started to re-enter his chauffer. However, Bumblebee's voice came softly to him, still from several feet away, as the mech slowly crept forward, flinching a little. "Sam… what happened?" He asked softly. "Your energy level suddenly sparked and nearly shorted out my systems… Barricade isn't responding either. It's almost like he went offline." He tapped the hood, but there was no response. "And your energy levels are almost gone now… but…" His optics focused on where Sam's fists were clutched together. "…what is wrong with your hands?" His voice sounded tentative, and slightly awed.

Sam winced, afraid of that answer himself. However, he knew that no matter what he said, the truth would come out eventually. So, he slowly opened his palms, his heart pounding as he gazed down to see what the damage was. At first, he thought it wasn't so bad. It was just a lot of bright light, strange patterns skittering over his hands in crackling blue patterns of energy, following faint gray lines that had formed in his palms. However, Bumblebee staggered back several feet, his optics suddenly dimming to a dull orange color as Sam realized some kind of sunglasses-like filter had been snapped over them. He himself could look down into the brilliant blue-white light without flinching, but he realized that it was as bright as a supernova. He quickly shut his hands again, and Bumblebee tentatively came forward, optics flicking back to blue as he stared incredulously down at Sam.

"…Sam…" he said slowly. "That is Allspark energy."

"Yeah… I kinda guessed." Sam muttered quietly.

"What exactly happened?"

"Um…well… I was arguing with the crazy cop…and got a bit steamed I guess. I don't know how it happened, but it just kinda…" he shrugged helplessly, shoving his hands under his armpits as if that would help hide the glowing light. It soothed the burning pain a little at least.

"Barricade is not responding, Sam." Bumblebee said slowly. "His systems were all shorted out… and they're not coming back online."

A rising sense of panic filled through Sam as he stared down at Barricade's silent form. Had he just killed him? He'd been close, worse, inside his cab… and if Bumblebee said his systems had been scrambled then who knows what it had done with direct contact on his steering wheel. "Crap…" He glanced at the silent black Saleen with a rising sense of panic. "God, Bee… You don't think I killed him do you?"

Bumblebee was silent for a moment, kneeling beside the unmoving alt form of the Decepticon. "No, Sam. I do not believe you killed him."

He let out a slow breath of relief, realizing that his legs were shaking a little, and slowly sunk to his knees, dropping his hands, turning them over slowly. The crackling energy had died down, but the faint gray marks remained, and his hands BURNED. There was no red welts or marks, but they felt as if they were on fire.

"My guess is you sent him into temporary stasis-lock. His spark is still functioning, although…" Bumblebee hesitated, uncertain. "…It has an unusual energy pattern to it."

"Unusual?"

"It is fluctuating." Bumblebee said, pulling back a bit, clearly puzzled. "As if it is unstable."

"Oh crap, I did kill him." Sam groaned. He felt horrible, both physically and mentally, like he wanted to lose his lunch here in the desert.

It was then that he heard a small whirr of something click, and Bumblebee's head snapped back to the sitting Saleen. A moment later, a rapid series of pulses and hoots translated themselves in Sam's ears. _"What in Primus' name just happened?"_ Sam let out a slow breath of relief, for once glad to hear that rough deep baritone voice.

The next words froze his blood.

"_Who the frag are you two?"_

Bumblebee froze, optics studying the car puzzled, before he shifted his gaze down to the pale human. "Sam." Bumblebee asked, a hard edge to his voice. Sam winced. The scout was in soldier mode now. "What exactly did you do?"

He gulped nervously. "I don't know. I didn't mean to do it. I got mad and then something just…exploded out of me into him I think…" His breath was coming faster, panic rising in him. It was one thing to defeat an enemy in battle, but quite another to attack one who hadn't provoked him.

Bumblebee stared at him intently, and then slowly knelt down to one knee, his optics leveling closer to Sam. "It's all right Sam, calm down. I am not angry with you." Bumblebee said gently, trying to soothe him. "However, this is most unusual." He glanced up at the Saleen, who was still sitting there while they talked. "His energy signature is still fluctuating unnaturally."

"I'm sorry." Sam muttered. "I just thought…"

"You needn't apologize Sam." Bumblebee said again. "However I would caution you not to let your emotions carry you away again for the time being."

"Um excuse me?" Came a rather puzzled voice in English. Both of them turned to stare at the Saleen. "Could you kindly explain what is going on here?"

Ok… now THAT was just creepy.

They exchanged glances, then Bumblebee straightened up. "Are you functioning properly?"

"Well…" the response sounded apologetic, completely unlike Barricade's usual tone, though the vocal processors were the same. "I am not entirely sure. I have accessed the data banks in this unit, however they appear to be corrupted."

"You don't remember anything?" Sam asked, a bit surprised.

"It's not unusual." Bumblebee said quietly. "Any sudden electrical shock might be capable of wiping short-term memories. Hard-wired protocols would still be evident, as well as basic sub-routines, however personality protocols should also be included in those protected sequences." Bumblebee mused, staring at the confused mech. "This should not have happened."

"So he has no memories?" Sam asked again, oddly enough feeling almost curious.

"It would seem so."

There was a small grinding sound from the car beside them, and both turned to watch as the mech shifted shape, re-arranging into it's robot form. "I cannot access the data core at the moment. It seems it has been temporarily shorted out. Unfortunately, this still leaves me quite confused." Barricade's head tilted to the side. It oddly looked less fierce without the normal hate-filled glare incorporated in the glowing red optics.

Geeze, it was weird to hear him talking politely. Sam winced but nodded a little. "Do you remember your name?"

"Negative. That information is not available at this time."

"Hey guys?" Lennox was coming back over. "What's the hold-up? We still have some distance to go here."

"Captain, we seem to have run into some trouble." Bumblebee spoke up first. "However…" he glanced down at Sam. "I believe we can discuss it while we continue our journey, if all parties agree."

Sam nodded, and Barricade agreed. "I am functioning within normal parameters, aside from my inability to access my core memory. We can proceed."

"Sam, I would like you to ride with me now." Bumblebee insisted firmly.

He wasn't about to protest, and climbed in the Camaro the moment it had finished switching shape. They were off with a roar of engines, the Saleen following them. Sam leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. He felt exhausted, drained of energy, but the sunshine streaming through helped warm his cold body. "Sam? Are you certain you are all right?" Bee's voice called through the radio. "I cannot read your vital signs any longer, there is too much interference."

"Sorry pal." Sam said, stretching a bit. "I'm feeling better now… I think that whole… thing really took a lot out of me. I feel like I just ran a marathon."

"That is likely due to the electromagnetic pulses that emanated from your body while you performed that action." Bumblebee said thoughtfully. "Most normal humans would not be able to withstand it, but it seems that your body has been adjusting to cope… however, you still are wrecking havoc with my scanning systems."

Sam grinned tiredly. "So what, I'm like the human scrambler now?"

"My guess is that the energy disrupts other sources around you, yes. I was able to scan you last night, but it seems the discharge of energy has left the synergy around you incapable of performing scans close-up. I would not be concerned about it for now. Just don't go trying anything inside of my cab, please."

"Wouldn't think of it, pal." Sam agreed sleepily, not really understanding most of what he was going on about. "So do you think he's lost his memories permanently?"

"I am not certain." Bumblebee admitted. "It seems the core instructions are there, but only the non-encrypted data, basic functions, languages, and programming to use his abilities seems to have been unaffected. To be honest, Sam… I have never encountered this."

Sam chewed his lip. This was awkward. If Barricade didn't remember anything about himself, was he still Barricade? Was this better for everyone maybe, or should he feel guilty. It had been an accident he knew, but he'd basically wiped out everything that Barricade WAS in personality, programming and attitude. Guilt gnawed at him, as well as worry about just HOW he'd done it, and could he accidentally do it again. What if it had been Bee? He swallowed hard. "Is he going to remember who he is eventually?"

"I cannot say. Ratchet is the one who could accurately diagnose the problem. We may simply have to wait until we return. I do recall that there were some cases of memory tampering during the war. It was a favored tactic of the Decepticons, however most of these actions were done before my time."

"Before your time?" Sam asked, confused. "Wait, how OLD are you Bumblebee?"

"The years do not compute well into your human timeframe…" The Autobot said. "Since our life spans are different from yours. But you could compare me in age to yourself, if placed in categories I would be a young adult, just recently placed into my final shell."

"So you're like…a teenager?" Sam grinned widely.

"Not exactly. More like… post-teenager." Bumblebee said amused. "Before coming to Earth, I went through my final upgrade." His voice sobered. "I was a soldier even as a youngling, Sam, so my experiences are very different from yours. I was fighting battles since I can remember."

"I guess I'd be doing the same if raised in a war zone." Sam admitted. "So you're the youngest of the bots?"

"Yes, of those present here." Bee acknowledged. "Therefore, it's possible the others might know more about Barricade's problem. We will have to ask them when we return."

"He's going to be PISSED if he ever does get his memories back." Sam winced. "He'll think I attacked him."

"I'm sure he will understand it was not your fault. And I will not let him squish you, Sam."

"Thanks, Bee."

They rode in silence, though Bee flipped on the radio to keep Sam occupied as they sped through the desert. Sam had to grin a bit. They had to be the only cars capable of radio music out in the middle of nowhere. By the time the sun was directly overhead around noon, Sam was feeling much better.

It was about then, that suddenly his mind tickled…

…just before a sudden loud signal screeched through the air.

Bee slammed on the breaks, and Sam could hear him squirming in pain against the signal, even as he slapped his hands over his ears, but it didn't help block the sound out that much. It felt like a hammer against his eardrums. The other cars had stopped too, and he could see Mikaela and Lennox doubled over in pain also.

Then abruptly it stopped. Sam let out a deep breath. "Shit… what was that?" Bumblebee didn't respond to him however, and to Sam's alarm, he noticed the engine was shut down. "Bee? Hey Bee?" No reply. A glance out the window showed him Mikaela and Lennox slumped in the jeep. "Oh shit." He whispered. The Saleen was not moving either.

Then, the ground rumbled a little. Sam gasped, looking up just in time to see shining metal reflecting sunlight off it's top as slowly, a tall figure rose towering on the rocks above them a good hundred meters away. Sam knew immediately it was a mech. It was a proto-form.

And it didn't look friendly.

Now, Sam didn't know the reason behind the different colored optics, but to his tiny human brain, he knew that all his friends' optics glowed blue, and the bad guy's optics glowed red. That was all he needed to know right now.

That one DEFINITELY had red optics.

It wasn't huge, but it looked creepy just like the rest of the Decepticons. Sam gulped, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched it slowly approach, silver form glinting brightly in the light of the desert sun. "Bee… come on Bee!" Sam whispered, sitting rigidly still, hoping to God that the thing didn't see him. Red was bad, red was bad. "Bee wake up!" But there was no response from the silent car beneath his seat. The engine was off, the radio shut down, and Sam knew it was hopeless. He slunk down in his seat, feeling desperation set in. If he didn't do something…

_Someone help!_ He thought urgently, squeezing his eyes shut. _Anyone, please!_

_Identify yourself!_ The answer came unexpectedly, and Sam's eyes snapped open. The protoform was still slinking forward, not seeming to have noticed his plea, or it's response. That meant…

_Help! I think a Decepticon is here! He disabled my friends!_

_Hold on, we're on our way._

Sam gulped. On their way, great… He didn't even know WHO they were. But right now it could be Pippy Longstocking for all he cared, as long as it distracted the mech. He fiddled nervously with the side of his shirt, unblinkingly staring at the protoform who was nearly on top of them by now. Glowing red optics swept over the scene, and then paused…

Directly on him.

Oh crap.

It happened suddenly. Out of nowhere, a flash of bright golden plasma slammed into the protoform's side, causing it to whip around. Sam gasped, and turned his head to see where the blast had come from, in time to see three figures leap over the ridge, firing blasts directly at the protoform. It crouched, then let out a stream of harsh syllables that Sam managed to catch. _Autobot brigade approaching. Outnumbered. Retreat initiated._ And with that the protoform turned and began to run away from the approaching group, leaving Sam's party as well as it headed out across the desert. Suddenly, there was another screeching wail, a different tonal pulse this time, and Sam cringed as the three pursuing protoforms did the same and stopped running after it, until the pulse stopped. They straightened.

"_Where did it go?"_

"_I dunno, I lost it. It don't appear on none of my scans."_

"_Slag it, he's blocking us somehow. Just like before."_

"_Well, let him go. We have found others. It appears he disabled them first. He can't run far out here, we can find him later."_

"_Who sent the signal?"_

_"One of them."_

Sam stared up at the three, as they turned as one to face the group on the ground beneath their feet. They were all about the same height, but of various bulk. The one closest to him was wide and built similar to Ironhide only without the massive guns visible. The middle one was a bit taller, and slightly less bulky. The third was the tallest, and had an odd panels on either side of his head that flickered when he transmitted a signal. All three had glowing blue optics.

Sam let out a breath of relief.

_"Which one sent the signal? They're both offline."_ There was clear confusion as the center one queried it's companions.

_"I am not certain."_

"_What we gonna do with them? We don't know their intentions." _The third spoke._"The disabling tone that fragger sent out will only last for two more breems. We gotta decide quickly."_

"_What are those parasites on them?" _The second asked, kneeling down and lightly poking at Lennox's slumped head._ "Organics…?"_

"_Do not prod them." _The tallest replied disapprovingly._ "They read on my scans as the dominant life form on this planet. They are likely sentient if they built this machine they ride in. I do not wish to damage any potential subjects."_

"_Sentient biologicals…weird."_

"_We have encountered them before. It is not surprising. What I do not understand is why Prime's message was met with interference, and now we cannot locate it. I still say that something is jamming our signals."_

"_Um…" _Sam tensed as he realized blue optics were lowering to stare directly at him through the windshield. _"This one is conscious."_ Sam winced, but sighed. No helping it. He slowly opened the door, and slid out, watching as the three took some steps backwards, staring down at him.

"Um… Hi." He said awkwardly. "I'm Sam… Optimus Prime sent us to find you." There was a pause between them all, then rapid tones as they spoke quickly to each other. Sam was able to follow their conversation, as they quickly discussed what language he was speaking, looked it up via GPS satellite link, processed it and then discussed if he were lying to them. He waited calmly as they talked, then finally they turned back to him.

The tallest knelt down, the others remaining standing. It's bright blue optics studied Sam curiously. "You claim to have been sent by Optimus Prime?" It queried, the voice switching to English, the strange panels on the side of it's head flickering with every note. It's voice was also slightly muffled from behind a similar plate to Optimus' battle mask. "How can we be sure of this? Do you bear proof?"

Suspicious weren't they? Sam shrugged and spread his hands. "No… I mean, unless you count my friends here." He pointed over to the Camaro he'd just gotten out of. "That's Bumblebee. The other one's um…" Don't mention his name, or they'll freak. "…well he's hard to explain, but he's with us. And… I'm sure your scanners are going nuts around me, right?" Slowly the robot nodded. "Well that's cause a month ago we had this huge fight… Decepticons against Autobots, over the Allspark, I'm sure you've heard of it… And… well we won…I held the Allspark up and it destroyed Megatron and well.. did something weird to me." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "So that's why you can't scan me, and Bee says that I'm like some kind of static field of interference…"They were staring at him. "Oh and I understand your language. It was me who called for help."

The robot blinked at him, then slowly pulled back. "YOU were the one who sent the call for help? Over an Autobot channel? How is that even possible?" The mech didn't seem angry at all. Instead, it seemed highly curious, which made Sam suddenly very nervous.

"I don't know." He admitted quietly. "I'm just figuring this out myself, everything started going haywire ever since I got to this continent… I know Ratchet's going to have a field day when I get back."

"Ratchet!" The mech suddenly sounded delighted. "So he is functioning and on this planet?"

"Um… yeah."

"Wonderful! I would very much like to see him again." The mech said cheerfully.

"Hold back your excitement a little, will you?" The second said, it's optics lifted skyward. "Why oh why am I stuck with you two?"

"Hey, what's gotten up your exhaust pipe." The third protested.

"Being stuck on this planet with two obsessed morons." It snorted. "You can't keep commenting on how 'pretty' it is here, he can't shut up about how these humans have developed advanced technology in orbit whose signals he found so easy to hack into."

"Forgive my comrades for being rude." The first said, sounding disapproving as it continued to kneel beside Sam. "We have had a very long journey, and our arrival was less than pleasant. The Decepticon you encountered earlier gave us some trouble on entry. It is my assumption that it is he who is responsible for scrambling our signals and sending us off course."

"Probably. Know who it was?"

"I did not get a close enough look."

"I have a good guess though." The second said sullenly. "Only one 'con has the ability to generate tone pulses to disable his enemies." He made a low disgusted sound. "Soundwave."

"Still, we have a responsibility to our comrades and cannot pursue him recklessly."

Sam smiled a little. He liked these three already. "So, they're not hurt right?"

"The humans may be out longer, but the other two should be coming online any moment now."

Sam sighed in relief. If anything had happened to Bee or the others, he would have felt directly responsible. He leaned against Bee's hood, and gazed up at the three. "So um…you have names right?"

"Certainly. My apologies for not introducing ourselves." The first said, sounding surprised. "I am…" There was a pause as it's optics flickered. Sam had a feeling it was accessing the data files to form an appropriate name in English. "…Wheeljack." He replied finally.

"Cliffjumper." The second said with a curt nod.

"Hound." The third replied, giving a small wave.

"Nice to meet you." Sam said, glad that their names seemed fairly tame. Nothing like 'Barricade' or 'Starscream'. They also seemed quite friendly.

TOO friendly in Wheeljack's case, as he leaned close again, optics studying Sam with fascination. "The energy impulses radiating off of you are intriguing. I have never before seen such signatures from a biological life-form before. You mentioned you were in close proximity to the Allspark? And did you mention that you USED it's power? I do not see how that is possible!" He sounded fascinated.

Sam gulped, but was saved from having to respond, by a quiver under his backside as he felt Bumblebee stir. He swiftly got off of the car's hood, and turned around as the Autobot came back online, and abruptly began to shift form. In a heartbeat, his cannon was out and aimed at the three, his blast shield down, and his posture defensive.

"Whoa, hey Bee!" Sam jumped to their help. "Easy there, no blasting!"

However, Bee didn't relax. "Sam, get back. They attacked us." He stated firmly, stepping directly in front of his ward. "Identify yourselves." His posture did not waver, as he stood erect and firmly in front of the others who still hadn't come around.

"Whoa, hey no, they didn't attack you. A Decepticon was running around here, they chased him off."

Bumblebee's cannon dropped, powering down slowly as he tilted his head down to Sam, as his posture changed, though still remaining alert. "Are you certain it was a Decepticon?"

"Positive." Cliffjumper spoke up, stretching his arms over his head with a creak and groan of metal. "He ran like an asteroid toward a sun the moment he saw us."

"Fragger got away." Muttered Hound in a southern drawl, crossing his arms. "I could'a used the action too."

Sam grinned a bit, and glanced up at his guardian, who had lifted his blast shield, but had not yet put his cannon away. "So do you guys know each other?"

There was a small bit of silence, but blue optics exchanged glances rapidly. Sam had the feeling they were communicating privately, and waited impatiently as they finished up their rapid-data-chat. Bumblebee's cannon retreated once it was clear the conversation was over, and his posture relaxed. "It is good to see familiar faces again." He spoke out loud, glancing down at Sam, curious optics studying him. Sam squirmed a bit, feeling as if Bumblebee was staring through him. Darn it, he hated that they could just transmit everything so quick like that. No doubt they'd told the scout he'd yelled for help. "It is a very good thing Sam was able to contact you in time. We were completely disabled."

"Yeah." Sam muttered to himself, glancing over to the Saleen. Boy, Barricade was having a rough day.

Right on cue... "What the frag is going on here?" Barricade's deep voice rang out. Behind them, the Saleen shifted forms, and the glowing red eyes blinking curiously around and seemed quite surprised at seeing the three new bots.

In unison, all three of them had cannons armed, and in Hound's case, some kind of rear missile launcher. "Whoa whoa!" Sam found himself shouting for the second time in a few minutes. "HOLD IT. No shooting people, let us explain!" Barricade had taken a few steps back nervously, but hadn't raised his weapons. It was then that Sam remembered Ratchet had disabled them. Sam pinched his nose. Great. He was stuck as peacekeeper to some trigger happy robots. How did he get himself stuck into these messes?

Luckily, Bumblebee stepped in before he had to. "Allow me, Sam." Bumblebee said quickly. "It would be faster if I brought them up to date." And with that he fell silent, communicating through wireless links.

It took several minutes to explain it, and even then after they had powered down their cannons, the three didn't relax around Barricade. "So you're telling us that a Decepticon surrendered voluntarily, and now he's lost his memory? You've GOT to be joking." Cliffjumper choked out.

Sam sighed. "Oh boy."


	12. Interlude Six: Captain William Lennox

**How it Is**  
**Interlude Six: Captain William Lennox**  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

This was nice. He didn't get the chance to simply relax like this very often, not when you were born and raised to be a soldier. The hype was nothing like reality, as most things were. Advertisements of traveling the world, reality of war...

But honestly, nothing in any of the recruiting pamphlets had mentioned THIS.

Captain William Lennox glanced up from his book to stare over the campfire at the odd assembly of figures on the other side of the campsite. A couple of hormone driven teenagers, and no less than five very large alien robots.

_Yeah, they didn't talk about this at boot camp._

Will was a no-nonsense guy. You had to be, in his line of work. He'd joined the military when he'd been right out of high school, done the requirements to get into college, gotten his education, gone back into the service, met his future wife on assignment and gotten married. She knew he was a career military man when she'd met him, and she didn't mind for the most part. Sure, there were tense times when things were blowing up all around you that you wondered what in the nine hells you were thinking, but then there were times like this...

Will smiled.

Sometimes he wondered how he'd gotten pulled into this crazy ride. After all, when he'd been pulled out of Qatar, he hadn't a clue what was going on. Alien robots hadn't even entered his mind at that point. Terrorism, sure. Advanced technology, yeah. But Aliens? Aliens were little green men with round UFO saucers, not twenty foot tall metal machines with plasma cannons.

His mother would have rolled over in her grave if she'd known he wasn't just defending his country anymore, but the whole world...heck, the whole universe.

Quite a responsibility.

Sure he wasn't alone in the task. Not only had he been given special clearance and assignment as military liaison to the Autobots and 'anything that went with them', he had his own battalion, and an unofficial promotion. Yeah, it wasn't official yet since the government couldn't think of a good enough cover for his re-assignment, but he wasn't complaining. He'd MUCH rather be doing this than staking out insurgents that he couldn't tell bad from good half the time. At least with these guys you knew.

The bad guys were damn ugly.

He fiddled with the bookmark between his fingers, mind not focused on reading the John Grisham book in his hand, instead watching the strange conglomeration of beings nearby. He wondered if he'd ever become fully comfortable around them. There was something to be said in not being able to control your own life. At least in a gun battle you had as much chance as the other guy to take him down or be taken down. Here, one wrong step and he was part of the landscape. It was only a little unnerving. But he was beginning to become accustomed to it. The good thing with very large metal things running around you was they tended to overlook the small fries, and that's how he'd taken out a few of them. But then, they hadn't run into any other skirmishes since, they could have gotten wiser.

His eyes lifted to stare up at the stars, as his thoughts turned to his own family. Sarah was probably bouncing Annabelle on her lap in the sunshine right about now. He just hoped Ironhide behaved himself. Really, the guy was hopeless. He could down a tank with a spiraling helix twist move right out of Spiderman, but he couldn't handle a crying baby. The robot got extremely agitated when Annabelle cried... and she only cried when he left her sight. This made it quite difficult for the weapon's specialist. Will chuckled.

_Poor Ironhide._

There were few times in Will's life that he'd ever think that phrase, but when it came to his wife and daughter, it was acceptable to be used.

Why?

His lips twitched in amusement, remembering the first day he'd come home after the war. Most times when soldiers returned they were greeted at the airbase as they got off the bus by waiting families, or in some cases as they got off the planes. In Will's case, he had just finished a long debriefing that had spanned the course of several days. He was exhausted and ready to return home, but he'd been detained as he was getting ready to make the call to his wife.

"Captain Lennox." A deep voice rumbled above him as the man paused mid-dial to tilt his head up towards the massive figure blocking the sunshine from his view. "I will transport you to your place of residence."

Will blinked. He hadn't had much contact with the Autobots on a one-on-one basis as of yet. He'd seen the yellow one, Bumblebee he remembered, in action the most. The others he'd only briefly seen after the battle as they all talked before reconvening at a secure location. He didn't even remember this one's name. "Um. You sure about that?" He asked, pushing the off button on the phone. "My place is a bit far away outside of Tranquility."

"It is of no concern." The behemoth answered, tone gravely and solemn. "I could use the exercise."

Will blinked but shrugged, shouldering his bag and sticking the phone back into his pocket, staring up at the massive robot curiously. He had to admit, now that there weren't explosions and guns going off, he was very interested to see just how these alien beings went about going from twenty plus sized robots to normal if a bit flashy earth vehicles. He wasn't disappointed, as the massive robot suddenly began to form the most intricate twisting, grinding and compacting of parts this side of Hollywood. In barely a few seconds, a shining black monster of a truck sat idling in front of him, silver chrome smokestacks quivering with the vibrations of the engine, dark tinted glass reflecting the light of the sun so no one could see inside. Will let out a low whistle of amazement. Now that was one sweet ride. Nothing flashy like the kid's Camaro, this truck might have been fancy in it's own right, but it was also no-nonsense and all business. It was built for power. Will shook his head impressed and walked up as the passenger side door popped open on it's own, allowing him to slip inside the untouched interior. It was sleek, with polished leather seats and unscratched dashboard. Not a fingerprint or grain of dust to speak for it, the interior simple and basic, down to earth. As the engine rumbled beneath him, Will felt a bit uncomfortable as his eyes slid over to the steering wheel, turning on it's own as the truck began to roll before he'd even pulled on a seatbelt. He had to admit, it was a very unnatural feeling knowing that the vehicle he sat in was sentient, alive and very much capable of blowing anything smaller than itself off the road without a thought.

"Is the temperature satisfactory for your preferences, Captain Lennox." Came the rumbling voice suddenly startling him out of his thoughts.

"Um." He stated awkwardly, trying to focus his attention on the road, figuring if he could just forget there wasn't someone sitting next to him he might relax a bit. "No it's fine. Cool air is great after being in the desert for so long."

"I understand." Rumbled the truck as they pushed out of the base's limits, heading down the highway back towards town. "I spent several vorns in a very inhospitable place comparable to your eastern global desert position."

Will's eyebrows lifted a little, curious despite himself. "A soldier then?"

"Sparked and programmed." The answer came.

Will had to think that one through before he realized it was the alien's equivalent to 'born and raised'. "Sounds like no matter where you go, species are similar across the universe." He commented, leaning back, having to admit he enjoyed not having to worry about driving for once. He doubted this car would ever make a mistake, become drowsy and run off the road, or get into an accident.

"I have seen many places with similar situations." Agreed the Topkick. "Each one contains parallels to our own experiences."

"War is universal." Will agreed with a small sigh. "Inevitable and the intergalactic language."

"Agreed."

Will smiled. He liked this guy already. "It was Ironhide, right?" he suddenly remembered the name.

"Correct, Captain Lennox."

"It's Will. No need for the Captain, we're not in battle."

"Very well, Lennox." Will sighed. Well, that was a military man, er mech, for you.

They rode in silence for a while as the human let his eyes closed at the steady rhythm of the truck's engine and rolling on the highway. After a few moments, Ironhide spoke up again. "You have been asked to collaborate with us by your government, correct?"

"Yeah." Will agreed, opening his eyes.

"You will accept this assignment?"

Will almost snorted. _Well let me think... _He grinned. Going out into the pits of hell to fight insurgents, or hanging out with twenty foot tall alien robots who could become badass cars? Yeah that was a hard decision. It even kept him mostly close to home. "I can't think of anything else I'd rather do, Ironhide. Not everyone gets a chance like this."

The truck rumbled a little. "You do realize this will place yourself in perhaps more danger than you have faced in previous engagements?"

"Not more danger, just a different kind." Will shrugged. "At least this kind I can see coming from a few miles off."

"And your personal unit?"

Will blinked. "You mean my family?"

"Correct."

"What about them?"

"If knowledge of your name reaches the Decepticons, they may become targets."

Will frowned. He'd thought of that, but he didn't think that it would be a huge problem. From what he'd been told of the opposing faction, they could care less about humans, and there were only a few of them left and they had apparently scattered. Still, the government had issued him top secret clearance, so his name would not be used in affiliation with his dealings. Yet, the possibility still existed. "Yes, I realize that." Will finally said quietly. "However, the first sign of any trouble they'll be taken care of."

"That is not acceptable."

Will frowned at the dashboard, not quite sure where to look when addressing the alien robot in his alternate mode. "You have a better plan then, big guy?"

"I do." The reply came gruffly. "I wish to extend my protection to your sparkmate and sparkling."

Ok, he hadn't been expecting that one.

"Um." Will said, a bit flabbergasted. "You want to protect them.. and me?"

"Affirmative."

"Why?"

"Optimus has decreed that it is in our best interest to interact with humans in which we are familiar with to better understand the society in this world. As we are of similar experience and mindset, I chose you to become my point of reference, with your permission of course."

Will blinked at that, a bit stunned. "Wait, let me get this straight..." he said slowly. "You want to become, what.. my partner?"

Ironhide was silent for a moment, then after a pause he spoke up again. "A partner would be an appropriate term for our collaboration. However, a more appropriate term for your immediate family unit would be more in line with how Bumblebee interacts with his ward Sam Witwicky."

"A guardian." Will murmured, smiling despite himself. "Well I have no problem with it. My wife on the other hand...I'm not sure I'd break it to her that some big black pickup truck is a better defense than the entire U.S. military."

"Would not simply stating the facts be most efficient?"

"Efficient maybe, but she's no soldier, big guy." Will grinned. "Me, I've seen weird things in my line of work, so seeing some giant alien robot's just another thing to add to my belt. Sarah's more down to earth and practical. This science fiction stuff won't sit well with her."

"I see." Ironhide rumbled, sounding aptly perplexed. "This could be most difficult."

"Yeah, you're telling me." He rubbed his face. He could see it now. _Honey, come outside and meet my alien combat partner, don't worry he won't bite. Oh by the way, he's a big alien robot that can transform into a truck._ Oh boy. "Well, I'll think about it... just don't go doing anything crazy until I figure out how to break the news to her."

"As you wish." Ironhide rumbled, turning off the correct exit without Will having to prompt him.

He was impressed, though supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, after all he'd been briefed that all the Autobots could connect wirelessly to the internet. No doubt Ironhide had Googled the location to his house. Will straightened up once they pulled onto the dirt road leading down to the farmhouse situated among rolling green hills dusky with the dim light of the just set sun shining in the golden sky. He swallowed hard, hesitating for a moment as Ironhide rolled up to the house. It had been a while... and he had never seen his baby girl before...

"Is something the matter, Lennox?"

"No...nothing much, Ironhide." He smiled a bit seeing the screen door slowly open. "Just excited to be home." And with that he opened the truck's door and slid out, sliding the duffel bag over his shoulder as he jumped down and started towards the two figures waiting for him, full of smiles.

He hadn't told Sarah that night, which had turned out to be quite a mistake. He'd been distracted, was his excuse. How could he not be, he was home with his wife, bouncing his giggling baby girl in his arms, barely able to take his eyes off her, despite how much drool he now had on his t-shirt. He even was fascinated when he had to change her diaper for the first time. It sure stunk worse than he'd thought it would. He kept poking her belly and watching as she squealed in glee. She was just so fascinating! Her tiny fingers wrapped around his tightly, she burbled and cooed, and when she fell asleep against his shoulder as he held her close, it was the best thing in the world.

Sarah had been just as warm to come home to. They stayed up talking, holding each other close late into the night until she too fell asleep, leaving Will the one who was up in an instant the moment Annabelle began to cry. He quickly moved into the baby's room, cooing to her softly as he bent down picking her up, shhing her quietly as he bounced her. She hiccupped and gurgled in response, calmed by his presence, her tiny hand grabbing his shirt as he turned towards the window and froze.

A big blue eye was staring in at him.

For a moment Will's fight or flight kicked in, and he almost split right then and there. The only thing that stopped him was the flicker in the mechanical eye watching him, as suddenly his brain connected what the eye was. He let out a breath slowly and walked to the window, glaring back at the robot. "Ironhide, what on earth are you doing?!" He hissed in a low voice, hoping not to wake Sarah.

"Your little one was making a most unpleasant noise." Rumbled the robot, to his credit his voice was lower than it usually was, in an attempt not to wake the sleeping woman in the next room.

Will sighed, and glanced down at Annabelle who was staring at Ironhide's eye with wide unblinking eyes. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around the small baby, then pointed towards the back door and moved that direction. He could feel the quiver of the ground as the mech moved, knowing Ironhide was meeting him there as he slipped out the back door and closed it quietly, holding Anna to him as they stepped out into the damp grass outside. Ironhide was kneeling down eye-level, or as close as he could come, watching as Will stepped out. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Will asked in a low voice as he stared up at the robot. "You probably scared her." He bounced Anna a bit, but her head turned, staring wide-eyed at the robot instead, and made a small 'ah' sound, reaching one pudgy hand towards him. Will stared surprised. Anna should have been scared of the big bad robot, but oddly enough she seemed more curious, probably not understanding what it was.

"Why are they built so small and defenseless?" Ironhide queried, frowning as he stared at the reaching baby. "Is it not dangerous to place such a young life into a fragile shell?"

Will blinked. "Well it's not like we have much choice. They're born like this and grow up." He frowned. "Don't your... um..." He trailed off not sure what to say past that. He didn't even know if robots HAD kids.

However, Ironhide seemed to be considering the situation himself, and answered the question unbidden. "Our young sparks are placed within bodies capable of withstanding significant damage, as they are prone to make mistakes within the first throws of life they develop under." He growled low. "Due to lack of programming, they can be... troublesome."

"Ah hah." Will said, suddenly understanding. It made sense that robots would build new ones to procreate, and he didn't want to know how they gave the new ones life. Not yet anyway. He made a mental note to ask later when he'd adjusted to this whole thing. "Well, organics don't have that ability. As far as I know, most species on this planet start out with their offspring being unable to fend for themselves and having to rely on the parents to protect them, teach them and raise them until they can fend for themselves."

"I see." Ironhide mused, and to Will's surprise he seemed curious. Then, as the human watched, the large robot's face loomed closer, the whirring of optics focusing closer audible as his face came to only a few inches away from the tiny girl in Will's arms. Her hand reached out making grabby fists, and then slapped onto the side of Ironhides' face once.. twice...then she happily giggled and began to constantly slap him like he was her new toy. Will did his very best not to twitch a muscle, uncertain if he wanted to burst out in laughter, or try and stop his daughter before the mech took that move the wrong way and ignited his cannons. Luckily, Ironhide didn't react to the constant baby-slapping, other than flickering his optics once in annoyance. "Your sparkling seems to enjoy this activity." He muttered, his deep voice rumbling quietly as Ana giggled and clapped her hands happily.

"I think she likes you." Will said smirking a bit, turning back to his child. "Do you like the big bad robot, Anna?"

She burped.

* * *

The next morning, Sarah demanded to know why her pansy patch was flattened.

"I heard you go out there talking to someone last night, Will." she said calmly. "Since it was your fault, you have to fix it."

Will growled and soon found himself out stabbing at the dirt with a spade in the hot sun, shooting deadly glares at the Topkick lounging in the shade. "This is your fault." The truck didn't reply, and Will thought darkly to himself that the mech had better either be asleep, or stay quiet if he knew what was best for him.

Unfortunately, things didn't stay simple for long.

"Will, why is that truck still sitting there?" Sarah had Annabelle balanced on one hip as she stood in the shade, watching her husband finish repairing the damaged garden. "Didn't the base give you a lift home?"

He glanced over his shoulder at the truck. "Um, no it's a military vehicle actually. It's been assigned to me until further notice." He said carefully. At least that was true.

"Some military vehicle." She murmured. "Our tax dollars at work?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a one of a kind model." He managed uncomfortably, wiping the dirt from his hands as he stood up, turning to study the truck. "Highly classified." Boy he was dancing on a thin line here.

"Well do you mind if I use it to pick up some groceries?"

Will almost gagged. "What?!" Oh boy…

"If it's assigned to you, they wouldn't mind if I used it to get some things from town." She said firmly, starting to walk over towards the truck. "After all, it looks far more safe than our old Volvo."

_Honey, you have no idea…_ Will quickly jogged after her as she approached the truck. "Um, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Sarah raised an eyebrow at him. "Don't think I can handle the power?" Her eyes scanned the truck. "I used to drive bigger things than this before I met you."

Will winced, remembering all too well. Sarah had been in the Peace Corps. She was no woman to trifle with. "No, it's not that. Just… I don't think uh…" Ok, he really had absolutely no good excuse for this right now.

"Good, then you won't mind." She handed Anna to him, and turned back towards the garage.

Will watched her go helplessly, and nearly jumped out of his boots when a deep voice rumbled behind him. "What is your female referring to… 'pick up groceries'."

Anna giggled and made a happy sound, looking around with wide eyes for the source of the voice as Will sighed. "She means, she wants to drive you into town to get food, diapers, that kind of thing. Do you mind? I really don't have any clue what to tell her."

"Why not tell her the truth?" Ironhide growled. "I am not programmed to run 'errands'."

"You try telling her that." He muttered, glancing over at his wife as she emerged from the garage with something bulky in her arms. "Oh boy…"

"What is that device?"

Pause. "It's a car-seat, Ironhide."

"I am equipped with seats, Lennox. She does not require another."

"It's for the baby." He said quietly, one hand slapping over his face to attempt to keep it straight and not show the smile threatening to take over. "The baby gets strapped into the car seat which is strapped onto your seats for extra protection."

"The sparkling is safe within my cab without such a contraption." Oh yes, the mech sounded irked now.

"I'm sure she's safer with you than any other car." Will agreed. "But again, I'd like to see you explain that to Sarah."

"Very well." There was a grinding of gears and pistons.

Will whirled around, wide-eyed in astonishment. _Wait one minute, he wasn't…oh dear God, he WAS._ "Wait!" He protested in alarm. "Not here! Not now!" But it was too late.

Sarah stopped dead in her tracks, car-seat in her arms, staring up with wide blue eyes at the towering mech who finished transforming with a click and whirr of his parts, and was standing there arms crossed, glaring down at her with irritation, very clearly not going anywhere. She blinked. Then blinked again.

Annabelle squealed and clapped her hands, reaching up for the robot.

Will flushed, and looked at his wife nervously.

Flat-faced Sarah spoke in a very quiet even tone. "William, you had better start talking."


	13. Chapter 7: Connections

_**How it Is**__  
__**Chapter Seven: Connections**_

_By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

The evening passed by strangely. They made camp, with Mikaela and Lennox being brought up to speed once they finally woke up. The sonic shockwave had more lasting affects on the fragile human mind. Sam had yet another example of why he was less and less human now. The three of them decided to cook dinner while the Autobots caught up on news. Bumblebee retold the battle of Mission City and it's precursor to the event. Sam sat quietly apart from the other humans, deep in thought barely touching his food, as he listened to Bumblebee's tale, told in rapid Cybertronian as the newcomers listened intently to his every beep. Sam was beginning to pick up subtle tones and fluctuations, hear the emotion expressed within their voices. It was curious how he could distinguish between them. Bumblebee spoke fast, flighty, true to his name, Wheeljack very distinctly proper and formal like a scientist, Cliffjumper casual and relaxed, and Hound had a slight slur to his tones, like he was using slang. Sam still had no clue how he could have somehow transmitted it to the others, as the language was too complex for him to even try and form a thought in it. Sure he could decipher it, but he couldn't THINK in it. So he just had to mull over how he'd managed to broadcast the cry for help earlier.

Several times he heard Wheeljack commenting to Bumblebee how he wanted to go over and examine the 'unique' human. Luckily, Bumblebee had a firm grasp on the fact that Sam was quite enough overwhelmed without being turned into a guinea pig. Sam knew instantly that Ratchet and Wheeljack would get along. They both would want to poke and prod him.

Sometime around the middle of the evening, Sam heard Mikaela sit down next to him. "Hey." She said quietly, pulling her coat closer as the chill of the desert evening set in. "You feeling better?"

"Yeah." Sam said, honestly. He felt much better, though tired and drained.

"Catchin' a cold maybe." She suggested, though her eyes bore into him hard saying she didn't believe that.

"Maybe." He agreed quietly. Her eyes narrowed. "Look, Mikaela…" He sighed, glancing up to stare at her. "Don't push it ok? I'm… I'm going through some things right now that I really can't deal with right now, and I don't need grief over it."

"I know." She said, surprising him enough for him to blink, meeting her blue eyes. "Oh come on Sam, I'm not blind." She said softly. "You may have tried to keep us out of it, but Bee's worried, and the Captain and I both saw what happened back there, though we don't know the details." She looked away. "Besides, I've watched you struggle with stuff all month. Trust me, I've deal with crap too. I know how tough it is, but it's got to be way worse for you. I just wish you'd talk to me. But I understand if you don't want to yet. Still I'm not giving up on you, I'm here if you need support." She smiled lightly, and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Sorry." He said with a sigh feeling suddenly grateful that she was so understanding, then looked up to the stars. He had so much to think about and his mind was beginning to panic over this change. He could feel his chest pressing in on him, his breathing strained but not from physical stress. How was he going to face the others? It was one thing having a freaky destructo-bot know your secret, even if he didn't know it anymore for the time being, and another to have his best friend know...but what would Mikaela say if she knew the truth, what would his parents say, and what would Optimus and the others say? Tears stung his eyes at the thought. He should be happy right? Wasn't it cool he was now connected to the transforming aliens in a way? Wouldn't everyone give their right arm to have this opportunity? Sure they would, but at the same time, it changed who he was.

Wait a minute... didn't this make him a super-hero now?

The thought caused him to momentarily forget his gloom and snicker silently, earning a raised eyebrow from Mikaela. "Sorry." He said, still grinning a bit. "I just got a weird image in my head." He leaned back against the small boulder he was using for support, staring up at the stars. Ok, change the topic, cheer up. "So did you manage to talk to Ratchet before we left?"

"Yeah, I talked it over with him." She said, joining him as she pulled up closer, sharing their body warmth in the cooling air. "He was more than happy to accept me as an intern. So I guess once school's over with, I'll be living with them permanently, for now anyway."

"Not a bad gig." Sam admitted, secretly a bit jealous. "My folks wouldn't ever go for it."

"You know… I don't think you give them enough credit." Mikaela said smirking a bit. "Well your Mom's nice, but I don't know if she could handle it, but your Dad… he seems pretty together. Why don't you just let them in on it?"

"You honestly think my mom could handle that her son's riding around in an alien that can turn into a car?" He snorted. "She already makes up conspiracy theories that'd make great stories for like the X-files or something. The government wanted to let them in on the NDA thingy, you know that paper we had to sign? I told them that it'd be wayyy better if they just left them in the dark."

"They're going to find out about Bee sometime. How are you going to explain that suddenly your old 76 Camaro became a brand new unreleased model?"

"Yeah well." Sam smiled. "I don't think they'd buy the 'government gave it to me' excuse that the Captain suggested. They're too suspicious for that."

"Maybe." Mikaela said quietly. "Well, you won't have to worry about it too soon I guess. You know what you're doing after High School?"

"No." Sam sighed. "I have no clue. But I know that anything I do, I want to be near them, helping them. Cause… well there's nothing this COOL in college."

She laughed and smacked his arm lightly. "Yeah, I guess you can't major in Extra-terrestrial studies."

They lay there in silence, listening to the empty quiet still of the desert interrupted by small bouts of whistles and chirps from the Cybertronians having their conversation. Lennox was sitting reading a book, not seeming to mind being on his own the least. Sam glanced around briefly, wondering where the crazy 'con had gone to, and spotted his bulk sitting away from the rest, staring at nothing in particular. "You know… There's a lot more to the Decepticons than I thought." Sam mused.

"What?" Mikaela stared at him as if he'd just started spouting gibberish. "Tell me you're joking."

"No, I'm serious." Sam propped himself up on his elbow, staring at her through the dim light. Her face was beautiful lit by the moon… "I mean, it's not so cut and dry, Bad guys Versus Good Guys. He's got a story… Sure I'm not debating he's a twisted evil masochist, but still…" He glanced over at the 'con. "It makes me wonder why the rest of them do what they do, what their story is. Why do they fight the Autobots? I mean he's not evil right now, right? His memory's blocked and he's calm, and even NICE. I can't figure out what makes the Decepticons so evil, and why the have to fight so brutally against the others."

"Wasn't it for the Allspark?" Mikaela asked rather confused.

Sam winced. Barricade HAD told him flat out that the Allspark was the only reason he was tailing them. But somehow, he just didn't buy it. The 'con could have snagged him, bagged him and taken him away where no one could find him, he didn't need to surrender and become a psudo prisoner. "If it were just that, why would Prime and the others be worried about more coming?" Sam pointed out. "The Allspark is gone." Well… that was exactly the truth, but he wasn't about to admit that to her just yet.

Mikaela looked thoughtful and then grudgingly nodded. "You have a point. I never thought about it. I never asked them either, I just thought that this war started because of that thing, and they hated each other."

"Yeah." Sam agreed quietly. "But there's more to it than that, I know it. I mean… they like killing so I guess that separates them out, the 'cons don't care much about us 'squishies'. They don't see us as equals I guess."

"Well when you're a big giant alien robot that could literally crush one with your foot, I could see why." Mikaela drawled. "Really, I don't need to psycho analyze a bunch of power hungry megalomaniacs. They cause trouble, nearly destroyed our city, and us. What more is there?"

"I dunno." Sam sighed. "I just thought, wouldn't it be nice if they could stop fighting and we wouldn't have to worry about their war anymore."

"Yeah, well good luck. We haven't even figured out how to do that with our own people yet." She sighed. "I'm going to go get some rest, kay?" She leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek, much to his embarrassment as his face heated up like a sauna. "Night, soldier."

He watched as she slid off back to the campsite, his eyes straying to places they probably shouldn't have before he smacked his head to get himself to stop. An amused voice interrupted him. "Your reaction to that female is very fascinating."

He jumped, and glanced up to see the Cybertronians had broken up their little pow-wow, and Wheeljack was standing nearly on top of him. How he'd snuck up without him noticing he couldn't fathom, though he admitted silently that he HAD been distracted at the time. The mech knelt down to be closer, glowing optics blinking curiously at him. "Are all human males capable of behaving this way around females?"

"Erm…" Sam flushed. Boy this was NOT the first social behavior conversation he wanted to have with the mech. Definitely up Ratchet's ally. "Kinda… I mean, it all just depends."

"Despite researching the subject through your internet, I still can't fathom these courtship rituals you seemed so attached to." He tilted his head towards him. "If you like her, why do you not mate with her?"

"Ugh…" Sam choked, and glanced over to Bumblebee who had approached and was standing behind them. "Bee, a little help?" Bumblebee tilted his head then began speaking in rapid tones and pulses. From what Sam got of the conversation, he explained that human courtship rituals dated back centuries, rooted deeply in culture and were taught to the young early on, and it was hard to break from the cycle, however it seemed an integral part of coupling in their species. Sam's cheeks burned as he glared at his guardian, trying to silently remind him that he DID understand what was being said. Bee ignored him, and continued explaining to him what references might be a good place to research, fiction books, classic works, dating websites. Wheeljack listened intently and then nodded his agreement, promising to look into it. Sam rubbed his head. Great…

"Sam, Bumblebee mentioned that there was an accident shortly before you encountered the Decepticon." Wheeljack was saying. The human nodded. "Would you permit me to do a thorough scan of your biology before I go and examine Barricade?"

"Yeah, sure go ahead." Sam said shrugging. By now he was beginning to get used to the tingly sensation of being probed.

A bright beam of blue surrounded him as the mech initiated his scanners, and the colors shifted a bit going from blue to green to orange and finally yellow before they shut off about a minute later. "I do not understand. How were you able to scan him, Bumblebee? I am met with interference." Wheeljack commented, turning to Bumblebee with a puzzled expression.

Bumblebee blinked, and glanced down at Sam, who rolled his eyes. "Go ahead. Geeze, I don't think you gotta ask anymore, wastes time."

The scout sighed, but initiated his own scans, though not the multi-colored versions Wheeljack had performed. When he finished, he tilted his head and sent a small chirp. Data was exchanged, and Wheeljack mused. "Curious. Why are you able to perform scans through the interference when I cannot. Hey, Hound!" He waved an arm. "Come here for a moment."

Sam let his head fall into his folded arms over his knees. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Sam, how are you feeling?" Bumblebee inquired as he moved to sit beside the human, a hint of worry in his processors. Now that Wheeljack was occupied with Barricade, they had the chance to finally talk.

"Oh fine." Sam said quietly, glad that Bumblebee was still thinking of his 'situation'. "I feel a lot better now. I think the food helped a bit, but I'm almost back to normal. I think after I sleep it'll be better."

"The energy field around you has nearly regenerated to it's previous strength." Bumblebee agreed quietly, as not to allow Mikaela and Will to overhear. "My guess is, your systems must recharge like ours do."

"Well humans recharge in their own ways too, ya know." He sighed. "Were you and Wheeljack able to figure out why you could scan and he couldn't?"

"Yes, I believe so." Bumblebee replied confidently. "His analysis based on the inability of Hound, himself and Cliffjumper to perform the scans led him to conclude it could be possible I am able to penetrate the interference due to my ability to connect with the Allspark. It could be that because it is compatible with me, it permits my scan probes and not others. Of course we cannot prove this theory until we return and have Optimus do the same thing."

"Oh, well that makes more sense then." He yawned, stretching out and laying back on the rock, staring up at the stars. So many things were running through his head right now, from his parents and Mikaela, to the Autobots and how he could be of use to them. An idea occurred to him. He felt a sudden thrill of something that could have been fear or excitement, possibly both. Was it possible? Did he dare? The Allspark was supposed to have great power, and he'd already tapped into a small bit of it by accident. What would happen if he TRIED to access it? "Hey… Bee?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Got any dents or anything on you?"

His guardian's optics flickered and a hand came down, rotating to reveal a small dent near his elbow. "Why do you ask?" he questioned, his tone suspicious. "If you are considering attempting to access the power residing within you, I must insist you do not, Sam. Not until we know more about it. Without proper knowledge and training, you could possibly do harm instead of help."

Sam sighed, and nodded faintly. He should have known he'd say that. Bumblebee was always looking out for his well-being. It felt good having a friend so concerned for him, at the same time a little stifling to think he couldn't do anything without the big yellow mech worrying about him. "Yeah, guess you're right. It was a silly idea." Plus, he didn't want to accidentally wipe HIS memory.

"Sam…" Bumblebee said gently, his tone warm. "I am not saying that you should not experiment, but it would not be wise to do so here with no medic available, unless you trust your life to Wheeljack, which I do not." Sam snorted. "Until we know just what happened to Barricade, we cannot risk it. Also, I do not know the inner workings of the Allspark, I only briefly glimpsed it. I cannot begin to estimate what kind of abilities, side-effects or powers it might discharge if you attempt to use it. We are not even sure that you have any control over this. It could simply be leftover energy…" He didn't sound that certain, however, Sam thought.

"If that's the case, why is it emptying, then recharging back to full strength?" Sam asked quietly.

"I do not know." Bumblebee admitted quietly. "Optimus Prime was the Allspark's guardian, perhaps he will be able to shed some light upon this situation."

Sam blinked, as something occurred to him. "Hey, wait… you knew how to manipulate the thing, right?" He glanced up into his guardian's blue optics. "I wonder…" he mused. "…would you still be able to… 'talk' to it?" _Maybe ask it to leave my body alone?_ He silently thought.

Bumblebee seemed to consider that, his optics studying Sam closely. "I have not felt any presence from your contact with me yet, Sam." He said finally. "I was able to remotely detect it's power before but, I would be uncertain that attempting any kind of connection would be wise." Yet, Sam could hear the hesitation and almost curiosity lining his guardian's voice. He wanted to try it, he could tell. But his soldier's training told him to be cautious.

"Yeah…" Sam said quietly. "But… maybe you could figure out just what it's doing, what kind of effect it left on me or something. I mean…you talked to it once, maybe you could do it again?"

"I do not know, Sam…" Bumblebee said slowly. "But…" Sam lifted his head hopefully. "Perhaps if we attempt something one step at a time, we might uncover answers."

"Right." Sam agreed, sitting up. "Take it slow… I mean, I'll just let you do whatever… I won't step in or anything, even if I knew how."

"Definitely not." Bumblebee replied firmly. "If I sense any irregularities in your systems, we are to immediately terminate contact. I will inform Wheeljack to assist." He suggested.

"Good idea. Just don't tell him why, kay? I have a feeling he'd be all over us, asking all kinds of questions, jotting down notes, wanting to dissect me…" He winced. "He's like, a robot scientist isn't he?"

"Yes, Wheeljack was a known inventor, I believe." Bumblebee replied. "I had never met him, however…" The mech hesitated, and when next he spoke, Sam definitely heard the amusement in his voice. "…his reputation precedes him."

"Really? Why?"

"Things have a habit of exploding around him."

"Oh, wonderful."

"Now one moment." Bumblebee was silent as he communicated to Wheeljack, and soon the mech was tromping over, optics bright with eager excitement.

"Ok… so you ARE going to tell me what you are doing right?" The scientist asked curiously, side-panels flashing bright in the night dusk. "You cannot just say 'if anything strange happens, separate our connecting contact."

"If this succeeds, it is up to Sam to determine if he wishes to share the information." Bumblebee said firmly. "We simply need you here for any emergency."

"Fine, fine. But I get to record it." He pushed a finger to the side of his head, and optics flickered brighter. "Ok, go for it kid."

Sam took a deep breath, and glanced up at his guardian, who nodded once to him. He slowly put his hand down on top of Bee's massive palm, and waited.

Nothing. Not even a flicker.

Sam scowled. Well he hadn't expected it to be just simple, and in a way he was glad. No accidental bumps would hurt Bee, he hoped. His guardian continued to watch him, optics making small minute movements every few seconds. They stood there for some time, before suddenly, Sam felt a strange tingle in the back of his mind.

It came to him almost instantly, right there at his fingertips, a surge of power, of awareness that almost overwhelmed him. It was unimaginable, so incredible that he couldn't even begin to put any recognition to it. He just knew it was big, powerful, and not under his control. He gasped and almost pulled his hand off, when suddenly something else pushed back at the force, a gentle but firm pressure that backed it away, just out of reach. Sam slowly breathed again, a bit shaken. _Ok… lets not try that again._

_That would be a very good idea, Sam._ A quiet thought told him.

Sam paused, a bit startled. _Bee? Is that you?_

_Yes, Sam. I can hear you. _Came the reply, and this time, Sam could feel the emotion, the thoughts, the connection. It was strange to him, and he knew immediately it was a foreign presence not his own mind playing tricks on him, because he could feel the calm collected presence of his guardian there beside him. It was a commanding firm force, strong and powerful, like a soldier protecting a child from stepping on a land-mine.

He didn't dare open his eyes, but focused in the calm quiet of his mind, feeling the presence of the Autobot there, like someone watching him. _Wow…this is very weird._

_I concur._ Bumblebee replied. _I have not communicated through private comm. with a mind so scatterbrained before._

_Scatterbrained?!_ Sam thought incredulously. _Wait, internal comm.? Is that what this is?_

_Yes. It is the same method Autobots use to message each other without vocalization. It is far more direct and private. Thoughts can be relayed quicker._ Bee explained patiently. _It does require a certain amount of discipline not to broadcast all your processing thoughts at once, however. You do not have such discipline yet, Sam. I understand now how you were able to send a transmission to the others. It appears the Allspark has reformatted your processors to be able to accept our communications and transmit in certain circumstances. You do not appear to have conscious control over it yet, however._

_Thanks…_ He thought wryly. _So that was you stopping…IT._

_Yes. I felt the Allspark's energy surging within you, and asked it to stop… it responded to my command._ He could hear Bee's bemusement and wonder. _It seems that the Allspark did indeed imprint itself into you…and it is regenerating._

A cold sensation washed through him at that. _Regenerating? What does that mean?_

_It means, it seems to be integrating with your systems, Sam._ Bumblebee replied, and he could sense the sudden strong surge of concern, worry and fear transmitting through his guardian's link. _The Allspark is a very rare sort of item, even for our kind. It is the only known mass shifter. This means that not only can it change it's shape, but it also can compact it's mass ignoring the normal rules of the universe. It can become smaller, and weigh less, but still contain the same amount of power within it. You saw me manipulate it's mass in the Hoover Dam. By my estimate, this means that it was able to transmit a great deal of it's energy into your body before allowing the rest of itself to be destroyed to stop Megatron. It is now attempting to regain it's full mass and power, and has not yet reached it's full regenerative level. Still, I do not know what this will mean for you._

Great. Sam thought quietly to himself, not sure if Bee could hear it or not. So I've been infected by a giant alien cube that's slowly taking over my body. Wonderful. Breathe Witwicky, don't panic yet, wait till you're alone in your tent. _Ok so… we can talk mentally like this… what else can you do?_ He wondered, hoping that Bee might be able to stop any further 'accidents' by like shutting the thing off or something.

_Let me attempt something._ Bee transmitted. There was a pause, before Sam felt a tickle in the back of his head, like a message trying to come to him. He opened his mind, and before his very eyes, suddenly he found himself standing in a completely alien environment.

It was like being in a 3-D movie theater. The landscape around him was a glowing soft cyan blue, the same color as the Autobot's optic illumination. Everywhere around him, tall spires of buildings, catwalks and bridges ran criss-crossing above and below him. He stood on the edge of one such bridge, staring at the city around him. It took him a moment to realize suddenly, that the sky was clear and star-lit, no sun warmed the sky, and there were strange stars streaking across the sky in low orbits. It was a city. A massive city more vast than anything he'd ever seen before. It struck him abruptly. _Cybertron._ He thought out loud, in wonder and rapture. It was beautiful in that mechanical kind of way. The complexity of the architecture was far beyond anything he'd seen before. It was smooth, elegant and sturdy… and he was seeing it through Bumblebee's eyes. _So this is what it looks like…?_

_Looked like._ Bee corrected quietly, as the image rippled and dissolved again. _It is there no longer._

_I'm sorry, Bee._ Sam thought back, torn. But maybe he could repay the little image with one of his own. _Here… maybe this will cheer you up._

And he focused, pulling up a particular memory he was fond of. His first ride with Bee. He could feel his guardian chuckling at the memory, as it played forward, and he grinned too. Now that it had happened, it was amusing to look back on his reaction to a sentient car. _Thank you for sharing that with me, Sam._ The quiet thought came. Sam found himself liking his guardian's mental voice. It wasn't broken and crackling like his vocal processors still were. They were, after all, still healing. It was smooth, more human-like to his mind. It still seemed strangely devoid of what he would have deemed emotion, but he was learning to pick up small fluctuations in the scout's pattern of speech that told him how he was feeling. _It appears data transfers are also possible._

_So we're like…telepathically linked now._ Sam thought. _How cool is this? But I gotta keep touching you to keep it going, right? I can't like, transmit wirelessly?_

_Not yet, but it may become possible. I believe you have inherited the properties the Allspark had, it was also not able to transmit on it's own, it required a 'user' to interface with it. It is very possible that through integrating with you it has indeed gained a permanent 'user' It still must format itself to accept you.._ Bumblebee answered, and Sam could feel the smile in his voice. _It is quite an achievement. It seems the Allspark has linked you to our own biology in it's unique way. You are a non-mechanical life-form, able to communicate with me on the same frequency. I do believe Ratchet will ah… 'flip out', as you say._

_No kidding._ He thought with a snort. He wondered what else this little link could do, but was reluctant to push it. So far, he'd learned much more than he'd thought he would. Luckily Bee had experience with the Allspark's power, and knew how to manipulate it for him. _So can you tell what's going on inside of me? And…do you think you can teach me how to use it so I won't hurt anyone else?_

There was a long silence. After a nanosecond, his guardian replied. _I believe I could help you, but I would not like to attempt to do such a thing until we are back at the headquarters with the others. Optimus is a more likely candidate to attempt teaching you to use and control this power within you._

_I know._ Sam sighed. _But…I dunno, I'd rather have you teach me._

He could feel a sudden strong surge of emotion from the bot, warmth and gratitude. The emotion of a friend. _Thank you Sam. I am honored by your request. Nonetheless, I must insist._

_Yeah I know you'd say that._ He sighed, then slowly took his hand off of Bee's, and opened his eyes. Abruptly he was slightly disoriented, and felt a sudden sense of emptiness and loss. He couldn't feel Bee's presence anymore, and as he looked up, he saw his guardian shaking his head slightly, clearly in the same situation.

Wheeljack looked bored. "Well?" He demanded.


	14. Chapter 8: A Lot to Talk About

_Author's Note: Hey everyone, glad you're still enjoying the fic. I re-read most of what I'd written and hadn't posted yet, and didn't like most of it. So I'm re-writing the rest from here on out Which means I will be slower at pumping out the chapters, but I'm still a write-a-holic so expect them every few days, no fear. Also, the Interludes are going to become more spaced out, as I have more plot ideas than interlude ideas, and they'll eventually intertwine into the main story._

_ Edit: Whoops! I left out a section before I posted it! Silly me! adds it in  
_

_**How it Is**__  
__**Chapter Eight: A lot to Talk about**_

_By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Their trip back to the Australian air force base took only half the time of their trip out there, thanks to the ingenuity of Hound pointing out an old service road. Sam felt conflicted as they rode back. He'd decided to stick with Mikaela and Lennox, which worked out well as Bumblebee still had communications to pass between the three newcomers. The three had all scanned temporary forms, taking their transport jeep for the time being. It was strange, he thought, looking back and seeing riderless identical vehicles following one with the three humans bumping around in it. They may have been identical, but there were also subtle differences in the way they behaved, and each was slightly different in appearance. He could tell them apart after studying them carefully. Hound had integrated his missle launcher into a retractable flat bed section, leaving a trap door and support structure for it to open up into. Cliffjumper had just taken a plain jeep form identical to the one they rode in. Wheeljack had chosen a simplistic version without a rig, complaining that this form was extremely too rugged for his taste. Hound had immediately stated he LIKED the form.

Sam had nearly been scared out of his wits after they'd all taken their forms for the first time. At first, it was a normal process, as the three humans watched the mechs scan the jeep, their forms shifting down in a complex grinding of metal gears. They had commented on their shapes while the humans finished packing up their supplies, when Hound's grillplate suddenly bumped into Sam's shin. He'd turned around blinking at the mech's alt form. "What's up?"

"May I ask your companion's permission to scan his biology?" The mech had inquired.

"Huh?"

"The male."

"Oh, Lennox? I think you'd better ask him."

The mech turned, rolling over to Lennox, who turned and had a brief conversation as both Sam and Mikaela watched curiously. "Why does he wanna scan Lennox?" Sam murmered to her.

"I don't know." She replied. "Maybe he's curious?"

But that didn't turn out to be the case. Lennox co-operated, standing there calmly as a narrow green beam shot out from Hound's front, running up and down his body, then shutting off. There was a small digital sound afterwards, and to everyone astonishment, a human suddenly appeared sitting in Hound's front seat.

"Whoa!" Sam shouted, jogging up as the human sitting there turned it's head to regard him. He was about Lennox's age, build and height, but he had sandy blonde hair, a tasteful gotee and brilliant blue eyes unblinkingly watching them. "How'd you do that?"

"Hound is our hologram specialist, Sam." Bumblebee offered as he rolled up to join the group. "He has the unique ability to process information and display a three dimensional representation."

"You got it." The human version of Hound spoke up, the door opening as he slid out of the seat stepping to the ground. The representation was nearly perfect. He wore casual cargo pants like Lennox had on him, a plain black t-shirt, and combat boots. But as he stepped around the vehicle turning around as if displaying his holoform for himself, Sam noticed he didn't throw a shadow, kick up dust, or make a sound while walking. It was further proved when Sam tentatively tried to poke his arm, and found nothing but air there.

"Dude. That's wicked cool." Sam stated. "I knew Barricade could do that, but I didn't know you could make it walk around outside."

"It takes a special kind of holographic projector to initiate this action." Hound's hologram explained, leaning against the jeep casually crossing his arms. The voice seemed to come from the hologram, but it still had a digital sound to it that Sam's ears could pick up on. "Holographic projectors are rare for most mechs, only those who need them have them installed, and mine is a different creation that Wheeljack assited with. It enables me to project and move the hologram realistically in the environment, though the radius is limited to ten feet from my body."

"Still, that's wicked cool." Sam stated. "What else can you do?" In a blink, suddenly the hologram vanished, and the vehicle did too, without so much as a shadow. "Whoa!" Sam grinned. "That's handy."

The vehicle re-appeared alone in the same spot it had been. "It has some limitations." Hound agreed. "I am still perfecting the technology. I cannot move fast and maintain the illusion masking myself or others near me without severe distortion. It is best for staying still and hiding."

"Still…that's awesome."

"Great…can we go now?" Lennox insisted impatiently.

However, the moment they hit the highway, Sam had watched them closely, knowing that they were going to be looking for more suitable alt forms. Sure enough, it didn't take them long to choose their each individual alternate modes. As he watched, Cliffjumper was the first to find an appropriate form as it zipped by them on the highway, and adapted his form to become a brick red first generation Humvee. As they got closer to the Air Base, Wheeljack snagged a Hazmat truck form sitting on the tarmac as they sped by the fences at the border. Hound decided not to alter his form for the moment, seeming to enjoy the off-roading vehicle. His hologram lounged behind the wheel, whistling to the radio, looking the most normal out of all of them, oddly enough. 

The flight back to the base turned out to be a bit more lively than the trip over...

And he'd hoped for some rest and thinking time.

No such luck.

They had made their way onto the base with Lennox distracting the military types as Hound carefully moved the three newcomers under his holographic imager. It took a long time, since the Autobot couldn't move fast and maintain the illusion, so he had to crawl along slowly with each of them while he projected an illusion just from one side like a shield as they moved carefully up the ramp. To his credit, Lennox was good at talking and distracting the men on the base, while the two teens kept lookout. Once the five cars were on the aircraft, Hound collapsed into one corner, making his intentions clear that he planned to go into recharge for a while, and no one should disturb him. Wheeljack had murmured in a conspiring voice to the teens that Hound had become lazy and wasn't used to overexerting his holographic imager this much. He'd gotten a rock thrown at his head for his troubles, and decided to stay quiet after that.

Sam and Mikaela were quite relieved to finally be able to have some time to unwind. Sam then took that opportunity to try and recharge AKA sleep, himself. He felt exhausted, and he had a good reason to be, he thought as he lay in the bunk, the gentle swaying of the aircraft suddenly helping him to feel drowsy, despite his earlier bout of airsickness on the ride over. He was asleep in moments, and for the first time in a long time, he slept soundly, without interruptions or strange dreams. When he woke up he felt rested and immediately alert as he swung his legs out of the bunk. Mikaela was still asleep, and Lennox was snoring softly so Sam carefully crept out of the human's sleeping area and into the large cargo hold.

He was greeted to a very odd sight indeed.

Cliffjumper and Barricade were both in recharge, silently in the corner, but Bumblebee was spread out flat on the floor, with Wheeljack sitting on top of him, the yellow mech's helmet laying in pieces to the side, and Hound studying the proceedings carefully from beside Wheeljack. Sam blinked. "Do I want to know?"

Wheeljack's head jerked up and his panels flashed immediately as he spoke. "Ah Sam! Come join us. It's quite all right, we're just doing some maintenance on him."

Sam slowly approached to step in front of Bumblebee's head smiling as the fragile blue optics rolled upwards in exasperation as he stepped into view. Apparently they'd asked him not to move. "They're not taking you apart are they?"

"No, Sam." Bumblebee said with an amused tone. "My holographic imaging system has been damaged since before I arrived on Earth. I asked them to take a look at it to see if they can repair the damage."

Sam's eyebrows lifted. That's right, he remembered Bumblebee had mentioned once that he'd had a holographic imaging system. Sam had just assumed he meant one like Prime's, but now he was curious. "You mean, you can make like a human version of yourself like Hound can?"

"Nothing as complex as mine." Hound commented, optics lifting from studying Wheeljack's tinkering to meet the humans' gaze. "I've done special alterations to mine, with Wheeljack's help. Most standard holographic images merely can display 3-D projections such as diagrams, maps, and the like. In some cases they also can be used to scan items or life-forms and mimic them. I believe that Barricade's apparatus includes this model. There are essentially three models that I am aware of in existence at this time."

"Three?" Sam asked, crossing his legs to sit down nearby the others, out of the way to avoid any accidents, but still close enough to see what was happening.

"Yes, the basic diagram routines, the projection of an active 3-D model, and the ability to conceal the environment." Wheeljack offered leaning over again and taking one of his fingers, adjusting something in Bumblebee's head.

"Are they common?" Sam asked, curious. It sure would be more convenient if they could project humans in their cabs, he thought. Though that would also mean they wouldn't rely on their human contacts as much either.

"Not especially common. They are difficult and delicate upgrades to manufacture and break easily, as with our friend here." He jabbed the screwdriver type tool at Bumblebee's shoulder, getting a beep of protest in response. "Those in leadership or scientific positions usually have the First Gen models put in, scouts and spies usually have the Second Gen installed, and as to my knowledge Hound is the only one with a functioning Third Generation model. But of course we can change that with the right components. Unfortunately..." He gave a small yank, and out came a small cylindrical object about the size of Sam's fist. "I will need other parts that I do not have access to in order to fix this for you my friend." He poked a few loose wires that Sam could see were clearly damaged. "You did quite a number on it." He handed it carefully to Hound, before replacing Bumblebee's helmet and screwing the pieces back into their sliding place, before getting back up again. Bumblebee rolled over and sat up, peering questioningly at the two. "I'll have to work with Ratchet to see what we can do, Bumblebee. I'm sure we can repair it, but Ratchet isn't exactly good with the close intricate work that I specialize in, I don't want him making a mess of things. But with luck in a week or so we can install it again." He harrumphed, and snagged the small cylinder from Hounds' grasp and began to examine it, sitting down against the wall and muttering to himself in his native tongue.

Sam and Bumblebee exchanged a glance then both grinned. "Is he always like that?" Sam asked curiously.

"Mostly." Hound commented dryly. "He'll tell you he's the one who invented the sun if you'd believe him... and if he says it enough HE might believe it." He shook his head and sat down.

Sam raised an eyebrow, grinning a bit as he shook his head. "How are you feeling, Sam?" Bumblebee asked, concern evident in his tone as his optics studied the small human. "You appear to be fully regenerated."

"I feel great, actually." Sam admitted, flexing his arms a bit. "It's weird, I never felt better. You'd think I'd be like, exhausted for a week or something, but I slept really well."

"That is a relief to hear." the scout agreed, obviously glad to hear the news. "It may be that your systems needed to expunge some of the energy that had been building up before they could be appropriately calibrated."

"Uh." Sam blinked trying to figure that out. "You mean like...sometimes you gotta break in the wheels of a new car before it'll drive right?"

"Yes, an apt comparison."

"Got it."

"Sam, when are you going to inform Mikaela about your situation?" Sam winced and glanced up at Bumblebee, who was watching him with a knowing look of disapproval. "She has already asked me to divulge what is going on. I of course told her she must inquire of you first. She intends to ask."

"I know." He sighed, picking at his jeans leg, finding a hole in one of the knees to abuse. "I just... I dunno I feel weird telling anyone about this. It's one thing having you guys know, it's another having my...my friends and family know." he muttered. Weird didn't even begin to cover it. The robots could deal with this easily, he knew. They were used to unusual situations, humans weren't, even though the humans that he kept company with hung out with said giant robots. It just wasn't the same going up to your girlfriend and telling her that you'd become some kind of alien hardware. He wasn't even sure what to say, first off. "I'll tell her."

"You should do it before we land." Bumblebee suggested. "Because if you do not, she will find out when Ratchet...ah...'freaks out', as you say. He will not care who hears what he has to say when he talks to you, Sam."

"I know." he replied glumly. Bee was right of course. Ratchet was going to go ballistic the moment Bumblebee transmitted the data to him, and probably Prime as well. He knew the scout had a responsibility to his superiors first and foremost, and since he was now intricately involved in this situation, his comfort was going to come dead last. He had to tell Mikaela, and Lennox for that matter, before they landed back in Nevada. He owed them that much. But how to do it? And then after that was his parents, Miles... He shivered, as the sense of everything around him beginning to spiral out of control took hold. What on earth was he supposed to do? What was he GOING to do, going to become? This Allspark thing had broad-sided him like a bus. Sure it was cool he could understand and even talk to them on a similar level, but the whole 'bursts of energy wiping bot memories' thing was a bit much. What did this mean for him in the long-term? He had the most frightening sensation of being fought over just as the Allspark had been fought over before, and shivered again. He did NOT want to be the center of a war...but did he have a choice?

He got his chance shortly later. Bumblebee had entered recharge with the others, as they all found the trip highly boring and the three newcomers were looking forward to a long rest cycle after having burned out their energy to get here in the first place. Barricade wasn't really that engaging to speak with, since he still couldn't access his memory routines, and therefore wasn't good at keeping a conversation.

So Sam had wandered back into the human side, sitting down at the table to find Lennox eating some rations. The Captain nodded once to him and held out another bag. "Hungry?"

"Not really." Sam said, politely declining as he sat down across form the man who simply shrugged and ate a few more bites. He watched, not really interested in the food and nostalgically wondering if he'd ever be interested in eating again. He felt a pain of loss hit him, realizing that this lack of food requirement might mean he'd never get to taste a nice fat juicy burger again. He groaned and let his head hit the table.

"Something bugging you?" Lennox asked, staring at him as Sam lifted his eyes between folded arms. The Captain's eyes were locked on his with that knowing look that Sam recognized so often in Bumblebee's gaze. Soldiers, the both of them. They had seen death, destruction and battles beyond his comprehension, and there was something in their eyes that showed it, a hard edge of someone who wouldn't back down from anything. It was unnerving at first, but Sam was slowly beginning to draw strength from it, since it was battles that had ruled his life lately, be it physical battles or emotional ones.

Sam lifted his head, staring towards the military man, realizing for the first time that he knew so little about the guy who'd probably saved his life more than a few times in the battle. Suddenly, he realized he had questions. "Um...Captain Lennox..?"

"Will." the man corrected with a grin. "Only my squad calls me Captain."

Sam grinned back a bit. "Ok... Will. Um, you have family, right?"

"Yeah. Wife and a baby girl."

"You tell them about all... this?" He gestured around at the plane, but they both knew what he really meant.

"Yeah, they know." He agreed, leaning back a bit casually sticking a boot up on the booth's seat across from him. "You're trying to figure out how to break it to yours?"

"Yeah." Sam said quietly. "That among other stuff. How'd you do it?"

"Actually." Will winced. "Ironhide saved me the trouble."

Sam blinked then grinned. "Oh, well that makes it easy."

"Says you. I had to face Sarah's wrath. Annabelle loved him, so no problem there...but you try explaining a twenty plus foot tall cannon-packing robot to my wife and see how you end up." He warned, waving his fork a bit towards Sam. "Let me tell you, I was on the couch for a while."

Sam grinned, a bit cheered by the comedic vision of the Captain getting his ass handed to him by an angry wife. "Maybe I should ask Bee to do something like that for my folks."

"It'll save trouble." Will agreed. "If they don't run screaming first that is. Trust me kid, I ran through all the scenarios in my head on how to tell my wife that I'm now working with alien robots. Nothing sounded real or rational." He shook his head. "Sometimes you just gotta break the ice and hope they don't have a bat handy."

Sam chuckled. "My mom would definitely take a bat to Bee... especially when she finds out its their fault for ruining her garden..." His smile faded a bit though, as the humor fled when his mind latched back onto the real reason he wanted to talk to the man.

"Let me guess." Will said leaning forward a bit, running one hand down his unshaven stubble on his chin. "Something else is on your mind."

"Bee said he wouldn't tell you guys what's going on..." Sam said softly. "But he said I should, and I'm not sure how to tell Mikaela... I don't even know what to think myself." He said softly then took a deep breath and decided to just break the ice. "The Allspark, that cube thing?" Will nodded. "It did something to me." Sam said miserably. Will didn't interrupt, just kept listening with a calm face, which gave him courage to continue. "I don't know what it means, but I know I can't go back to the way things were...and I'm not sure what to do now."

Will regarded him calmly, reaching for his bottle of water and chugging down a gulp first before replying. "So?"

Sam blinked up at him, a bit surprised at his sudden lack of interest. "What?"

"So what do you plan to do about it?" He asked calmly. "Life throws you lemons, you have to learn to make lemonade out of them. It's just the way things are."

Sam blinked again, totally thrown. Will acted as if this were just an ordinary thing that he was dealing with, something everyday run-of-the-mill. "I don't think you understand." he said slowly.

"No, I understand." Will said simply. "I just don't see how it changes anything. Whatever that cube thing did, does it change how you feel about yourself, your friends?" Sam shook his head. "So why are you worried?" He asked simply. "There are things in this world you can and can't control. You have to figure out how to deal with it. You think that finding out I was battling a giant alien scorpion stopped my men?" Sam blinked slowly at him, starting to understand where he was coming from. "Sure, it was freaky as hell, but in wars you see freaky shit. You learn to deal with it. Seeing alien robots stomping around changing into tanks, cars, planes...you take in stride. I didn't see you reacting any differently than my men, after the first shock, right?" Sam nodded slowly. "So why would this be different? You learn to live with what life dishes to you, and it's up to you whether you let it effect who and what you are. You got a great opportunity here kid, one that I'd have given anything for at your age." He leaned forward a bit grinning. "Think about where your life is going to go from here onwards. Have you thought of that yet? Thought of what stuff you're going to see, experience and get to interact with? Most people will never even know about it, not for a long while, and here you are stuck in the middle of it. It's your life, and you get to say what direction it takes you in. But if I were you, I'd go for it. After all, you don't get a chance like this every day."

Sam blinked, then stared down at his hands. Will was speaking what Sam's own heart was feeling. He was thrilled, excited, but still frightened about what it meant. But he realized, that if he could get past the fear, that it opened up a whole new world for him. If he was affected by the Allspark, that meant that he too was on the 'in' crowd. He'd be working with his friends and companions the rest of his life, helping them...and they would welcome him. He could turn his back on it perhaps, but why would he want to? Will was right, the only thing holding him back was his own fears.

"I know that this kind of thing must be a different kind of weird." Will was saying, squeezing his water bottle casually. "But that's why you tell people, so they can help you get through it. I'd let your girl know, and your family. They can't help you if you won't let them. And everyone needs friends." He lifted his gaze to study Sam. "To tell you the truth, I think everyone who was 'there' pretty much can guess something odd is happening to you, Sam."

That made him jump. "They can?"

"You haven't eaten more than a few bites this whole trip." Will pointed out. "Mikaela asked me about it. But you don't seem to be suffering from it so I told her to just let you be. We both saw what happened the other day, or something like it." Will mused. "I only felt that kind of thing once before, around that cube thing. Made all your hairs stand on end. And Mikaela mentioned to me she'd seen some odd bruises on you when she thought you weren't looking." Sam blushed brightly. "So you see Sam, your friends are more observant than you think. Have a little faith in them and they'll back you up. You have to start trusting them."

Sam smiled quietly at that, and nodded slowly feeling a warmth spread through his heart listening to the Captain. He was a smart guy, observant and practical. He didn't beat around any bushes with his attitude either. What you saw is what you got, and he told it like he saw it. Sam could handle that. "Thanks, Will." he said finally. "I think I get it now." He stood up, making his decision. He was going to talk to Mikaela now.

"Good. And Sam..." Sam looked back at him. "Good luck kid. You'll do fine." Will grinned at him nodding once. "You faced down scarier stuff than your girlfriend."

Sam actually laughed at that. In a way, Mikaela was a bit more intimidating than Megatron, but nowhere near as scary. He turned and made his way back into the sleeping section and sat down in his bunk which was across from hers so he could watch her as she slept, waiting for her to wake. In the meantime he thought about what he was going to say. Will's advice had been sound, and Sam decided that he'd rather be up and straight with her. After all, she'd been through everything that he'd been through, so he owed her the full complete story. He thought it through until he heard her sighing and rolling over, and hopped out of his bunk to stand on the bottom one beneath her, staring over at her with a calm smile as she turned her head towards him. "Hey." he said quietly. "Sleep well?"

"Mmmm." She mused tucking her elbow under the pillow to shove a hand under her head sleepily blinking at him with her bright blue eyes. "As good as this lumpy mattress allows." She smiled coyly, running a hand through her rumpled dark hair.

"They're not that bad." Sam commented thoughtfully. "Miles has the worst sofa for sleepovers. I swear three dogs live in there." She chuckled and yawned lazily. _God, she's beautiful... _He couldn't help but feel hot suddenly, his heart quickening as she just continued to watch him. No blazin' hot bod, just simple sleepiness, no makeup... she looked much prettier without that eyeliner.

"So what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning visit?" She asked smiling with humor.

"Is it early?" Sam blinked, checking his watch. 2 AM according to their home time. "Geeze.. I'm all thrown off..."

"Traveling does that."

Sam shifted from his standing position on the bunk. "Actually, I need to talk to you." Her eyes studied him with a sudden intensity that told him she was probably thinking 'about time'. But she said nothing, instead sat up, shifting back so he had room to sit in the upper bunk with her. He slid into the slot, having to hunch down a little to avoid bonking his head on the low roof, but ended up sitting facing her, slouched down with his arms around his knees while she faced him in a similar pose. She stared across at him in silence, obviously expecting him to start talking before she spoke up. So, Sam sighed and started. He told her what he'd noticed only a few days after the battle, how it had gotten worse with time while the bruises had faded. He told her of the strange dreams, and of his unexplained ability to compute mathematics, of his weird experience with the soda can, and of his encounter with Barricade the night before the accident. He told her how he'd spoken with Bee, what had been discussed and how he'd felt. Then, he took a deep breath, glad she hadn't yet interrupted, and launched into what had happened with Barricade, the Decepticon that had ambushed them, and the experiment that night. When he finally stopped talking, hearing the empty silence only muffled by the rumbling hum of the massive plane engine beneath them, he realized that he was twisting his shirt into tight bundles. He let it go, fiddling with the hole in his jeans again. "So...that's what's been happening... and why I haven't told you cause... well... I really didn't know what to say." He didn't look up at her, not sure he wanted to see how she was taking the news. Sure, Will had told him if she was a friend she'd understand, but the other insecure teenage part of his brain that seemed to slowly be shrinking day by day told him he was risking a lot.

However, a soft warm hand on his ceased his nervous picking, and he lifted his brown eyes to hesitantly gaze into hers, which were soft and warm staring at him with tenderness. His nervous bundle seemed to unwind slowly in his chest as he gazed into those deep oceanic eyes. "Sam." She said softly. "Thank you for finally telling me."

He smiled nervously, and tried to laugh, but it came out more like a strangled choke and he had to clear his throat to recover, looking away embarrassed. "Sorry for not telling you, Mikaela, but..."

"It's ok." She said softly, sliding forward so that she was kneeling closer to him, crouched in the bunk space. "I know why you didn't want to say anything... Geeze, Sam…" she slid beside him sitting directly next to him and wound her arm around his shoulder. He leaned into her, suddenly needing her warm presence, feeling the tight knot in his chest return. He was NOT going to cry. Not in front of her. "...How have you handled this all by yourself?" She asked, her voice soft and gentle, but also a bit concerned. "This is huge..."

"I don't know." He muttered, swallowing hard as a lump formed in his throat. "I mean, I could talk to Bee about it... I guess I was just scared to say anything to anyone else..." Her arm tightened around his waist, and he took that moment to breathe in deeply, inhaling the soft smell of her shampoo as she sat next to him. His chest felt even tighter. "I just wasn't sure anyone else could deal with it...I mean... I guess I'm still freaking out about it."

"It's ok, Sam." She said quietly, her eyes finding his again. "You have a right."

And with that, he felt some kind of dam burst inside, and before he could stop himself, his arms wrapped around her as he pulled close, feeling her arms wrap comfortingly around his back in support as hot tears spilled from his eyes as he buried his face in her shoulder, and just let himself go. Sam hadn't cried like this his whole life... not a real genuine overflowing emotion like this. It was the fear, the pressure, the worry all built up inside and held back the last two days that spilled out as he kept quiet, but just let it go.

Mikaela held him gently the whole time.

He wasn't even sure how long they sat there, but after some time he finally felt that drained emptiness of relief that you felt after having a good tearful expunge of your soul, and he pulled back, wiping the salt from his face, feeling her warm hand rubbing his shoulder as he sat back. He felt calmer, better... and as he turned his head to meet her gaze, he saw tears glittering in her own eyes as she smiled warmly at him. "Feel better?" She asked softly.

"Yeah." He whispered. "Thanks..."

"Don't worry, I won't tell if you don't." She teased.

Sam laughed. "Don't worry... I'm not that macho. I'm a geek, remember?"

"Oh right. No abs, no biceps." She teased, poking his flabby stomach. "Why am I with you again?"

"Cause, um... I like watching you work on car engines?"

Her smile was warm and sunny. "Oh, that's why." She leaned closer and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Because you're a good honest guy who appreciates me for who I am." She pulled back, one hand lightly touching his cheek. "I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't return the favor. Whatever happens Sam, I still hold to what I said to you back in Mission City."

He smiled softly. "That you were glad to get into the car..."

"Damn straight."

He smiled and leaned back, rubbing his face. "Yeah...no matter what happens... I don't regret it either." They were silent for a little longer, lost in their own thoughts, taking comfort in one another's presence before he spoke up, his voice a bit more steady now. "So...it doesn't bother you?"

"Hm? Having a geek boyfriend with no muscle?"

He grinned. "Well that too but...what's happening to me and stuff... it doesn't bother you?"

"Sam, you'll always be you no matter what happens. Both our lives changed the moment we met them... and I don't regret it for a moment. As long as you don't mind me crawling around the innards of alien robots, I won't mind that you're turning super-hero. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Just one request." He blinked over at her. "Don't wear spandex, for the love of God!"


	15. Chapter 9: Guinea Pig

_**How it Is**__  
__**Chapter Nine: Guinea Pig**_

_By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

The plane landed without incident, and the passengers unloaded each rested and recharged in like. Bumblebee announced that the others were awaiting their arrival back at the base, so without hesitation they set out, bidding farewell to Lennox for the time being before the group sped out across the highway heading out into the desert. As they descended down into the Autobot's base, Sam wasn't surprised to see the rest waiting there at the city's entrance, standing tall. As Bumblebee pulled aside, both Sam and Mikaela got out, stepping far enough away so the Autobot could transform and stand upright once more. Barricade kept to the side as usual, as the three newcomers shifted form and performed the expected introductions.

Ratchet appeared slightly distraught at seeing Wheeljack cheerily greet him, and only curtly replied with some common respect as they all caught up with instant data transfers. Sam idly picked at a hole in his shirt sleeve, waiting for the shoe to drop. It came soon enough.

"You!" Came a suddenly sharp voice, and he flinched. He shot a glare to Bumblebee, who in turn shot him an apologetic look, before he grudgingly turned to see the CMO glaring down at him dangerously. "Why did you not inform me of your medical complications, Sam." It was a demand, not a question.

Sam winced, seeing the others slowly turning to look at him. Mikaela gave his elbow a gentle squeeze of support. "I um...didn't think it was a big deal at the time?" He said quietly, swearing silently he would get Bee back for blowing the whistle in front of everyone so soon.

"From what Bumblebee tells me, this is a serious medical issue and must be addressed immediately." Ratchet said scowling in disapproval. He had everyone's attention now.

"Way to go, Bee." Sam muttered unhappily as he sighed and grudgingly walked over to the waiting medic who lowered a hand for him. He climbed in, not looking at anyone, but muttering dark thoughts. Oh yes, he'd let the air out of Bee's tires one night and see how he liked it.

He was taken in a rather undignified fashion to the medical bay, where Ratchet slammed the door behind him, leaving the two in privacy as he deposited his human ward on the table. Wheeljack had attempted to follow them, but Ratchet had none of it, slamming the door in his face, with a warning curt comment that if he attempted to 'help' he would find himself disassembled on the table. Wheeljack looked disappointed, but respected the medic's wishes… for now anyway. Sam stood on the table uncomfortably, a dark feeling of despair rising up in the pit of his stomach as the CMO turned to glare at him accusingly. Crap... he was really in for it now. "Am I to understand that you knew about these physiological changes, and did not mention them to anyone, and it was in fact Barricade that tempted you to do a dangerous activity in which you could nearly have killed yourself and him, and IN addition..." He continued when Sam tried to interrupt. "...you then proceeded to play with death once more and connected on a neural level with Bumblebee?"

Sam shrank down and just smiled nervously under the piercing optics of the medic. "Hey, it didn't hurt anyone..."

Ratchet's optics flashed. "Didn't hurt anyone? You call wiping Barricades' memory cortex not hurting anything?"

Sam flinched. "That's not what I meant. That was an accident." He said quietly. "You can help him right?"

"I am not certain just yet." The medic growled with irritation. "I will have to examine his processor to see where the damage lies. Not that I'm complaining what you did, Sam." The medic seemed rather amused now. "When Optimus Prime asked you to assist with Barricade's attitude re-adjustment, I don't think this is quite what he had in mind."

Sam smiled nervously, as the tension broke. "At least he's not a pain in the aft now, right?"

"True. Perhaps he will let me examine his spark casing now that he is more docile." Ratchet grumbled. "Then we can see just what's going on." His optics focused back on Sam thoughtfully. "Now, to your situation. Bumblebee informed me what you two discussed and experimented with. While I do not have the ability to communicate with the Allspark, what Bumblebee tells me does line up with my information on it's operation. However that does not mean you had any excuse to attempt such a foolhardy thing without my supervision." His sharp glare returned. "And you will not do so again until we know just what exactly we are dealing with."

Sam gulped. He knew he didn't have much of a choice in this matter. "Bee told Optimus too, right?" So someone knew where to look for his body when The Hatchet was done with him.

"Yes." The CMO replied curtly. "Optimus was apparently suspicious of such an occurrence happening, but failed to mention it to me. He will wish to speak to you when I am finished with you." He sounded just as angry with his leader as he had with Sam a moment ago. "The Allspark affecting a human...it's preposterous to think of, yet..." He shook his head focusing back on Sam. "Apparently possible. Now, stand still while I scan you."

"Can you do that? So far no one else but Bumblebee has been able to scan me."

"I am aware of that." Ratchet said curtly. "Most standard scanning equipment installed does not have the in-depth capabilities of a seasoned medic. Besides, I worked with Prime during the war and he allowed me to adapt my scans to compensate for the Allspark's interference field. Most mechs cannot integrate with it since their systems are incompatible with it's power. There are a few exceptions, and with careful study and alterations of the patterns and currents in the flow, one can adapt to be able to interpret the data, though they cannot control the power directly. Now hold still."

Sam did as he was told, not moving as bright blue optics lit up and suddenly a beam of narrow light ran up and down his body in a sweep. It felt slightly tingling to the touch, and Sam almost squirmed, but managed to remain still until Ratchet was done, and turning back to his large computer. He started imputing things, and muttered to himself in Cybertronian. Sam grinned at some of the comments, about a foolhardy whippersnapper doing reckless things...

He blinked. "Who's Sunstreaker?" He asked, and the CMO whirled around staring at him in disbelief as the human just smiled calmly.

"Slag, boy!" Ratchet exclaimed, his optics wide. "I thought it impossible, but it seems Bumblebee's analysis was right." He knelt down so he was face-to-face with the human, who took a small step back out of reflex. "Can you understand everything said?"

"So far." Sam admitted. "It was a bit tougher at first, but it's getting easier."

"Fascinating." It seemed Ratchets anger at his keeping this a secret was quickly evaporating to be replaced by genuine curiosity. "And when did you first notice this ability?"

"Uh…" Sam blinked trying to remember. "Well I first realized it when Barricade snapped at me for being an idiot… But I think it happened before that too. Now that I know I can do it, it explains the weird dreams I've been having… I think I was talking to Wheeljack and the others without realizing it."

"Hmm…very interesting. I will have to further investigate the ability you have to receive and project transmissions. You say you had no conscious control until you called for help?" Sam nodded, and Ratchet turned back to his computer and began to pull up images. Sam strained to see, though it was difficult from his distance. "The analysis is complete of your physiology. Do you wish to hear it?"

"Might as well." Sam sighed. "I already know a bit about it thanks to Robo-Cop."

"Very well." Though Sam detected a hint of amusement in the CMO's voice. "Your bone density has increased to an alloy that is residual of the metal the Allspark was constructed of, an unknown variant of invulnerable metal from what we have been able to determine. It is energy capable of storing and generating." He explained running a large hand along the image showing Sam's skeletal frame. "The good thing is, this assists in protecting your vital organs even further. For a human it has increased your resilience incredibly."

"Cool, no more broken bones then?" Sam guessed.

"Highly unlikely." Ratchet agreed. "In addition, your blood seems to contain the same alloy in reduced form. Curiously enough, it does not seem to have hindered your natural biological functions dramatically, though I am picking up increased electrical activity, and reduced organic digestion." He glanced over at him. "When was the last time you have eaten, Sam?"

"Um..." Sam thought. "It was on the plane, but I wasn't really hungry. Come to think of it..." he realized. "I haven't been hungry for a while." He blinked up at the CMO. "Is that bad? I mean, I'm not going to starve to death, right?"

"Unlikely." Ratchet replied eyeing the readout. "Your systems do not show signs of malnourishment, rather it seems they are operating quite efficiently. It may be your systems are isolating themselves off a dependency of organic food products, and instead feeding off the natural energy that is being produced by the Allspark that has apparently fused with you. I have also noticed there are microfilaments integrated into all parts of your systems, stimulating them and seeming to be combining with them on a microscopic level."

"So it's really true then." Sam said softly. "The Allspark...what?...is possessing me? Changing me? What?"

"I'm not entirely sure." The mech's voice was quiet, almost somber. "When you used it's power against Megatron, I wondered why you had been able to. In our kind, there are some able to manipulate the energy, some who cannot. I have never experienced organics with this property." he turned his eyes thoughtfully down to him. "My guess is Bumblebee's assessment is closest to the truth. The Allspark has the unusual ability to mass shift, and thus it could have destroyed a portion of it's own mass knowing it could regenerate what little it transmitted into your body. It may have granted you compatibility as a last resort." Ratchet rubbed his chin in a human gesture. "It has the ability to regenerate it's own power, in addition your biology would not have been able to withstand it's full mass had it transferred it all into you at once, it knew it had to incorporate it slowly and allow your body to adapt. Thus, it has slowly integrated itself in your systems, upgraded them, and adapted itself to life within a biological life form... my guess is, Sam, that despite this being an inconvenience to you, it will grant you significant boons."

Sam blinked. "You mean, aside from being able to understand languages, telepathically talk to you guys and not be crushed? Oh and do my math homework?"

Ratchet eyed him warily. "I cannot be sure of it's reach, Sam. This is an entirely new situation to us all. As of yet you do not have any conscious control of it. Yet, it is a part of you, and eventually you may willingly be able to draw forth it's power. This will be a tremendous responsibility. I am fairly certain that it chose this decision knowing the consequence...if you had been as willing to abuse the power as Megatron, I do not think it would have responded in your hands." Sam gulped. "You said earlier Barricade held you tight enough to crush you, and you felt no pain?" He nodded in assent. "It appears there is no dermal damage to your systems, and there should be some if he applied such force. Therefore, it appears you are resilient against most damage. May I attempt an experiment?"

"Erm..." Sam eyed him warily. "You're not going to step on me are you?"

"Certainly not!" Ratchet said indignantly, looking mortified. Instead, he drew out an extremely large needle from his first finger.

Sam flinched. "Oh hell no!"

"Relax." Ratchet growled coming closer, and presenting the fingertip to him. "I simply wish a small blood sample. It need not be more than a drop. Simply push your fingertip gently on the point."

Sam winced, and eyed the enormous needle, but slowly approached and held his fingertip out, and poked at it with a low whimper as he squeezed his eyes shut. A small prick of blood appeared on his finger, and he tentatively glanced up at Ratchet, who was already at work, his optics turning green and focusing in very tight. Sam tried to keep still, having a feeling he was being microscopically analyzed. As he watched however, something strange happened. He felt a tingle at his fingertip, and glanced down to see suddenly the blood retreat, and a small glint of light before his fingertip was whole and undamaged.

His mouth fell open.

"Ah hah." Ratchet said proudly, pulling back, the needle vanishing. "I thought so. You have adapted advanced regenerative techniques similar to our own, albeit much faster." He turned back to his computer, selecting a small panel and depositing the blood sample there. "I will continue to run analysis on this to see what else I can determine on a molecular level."

Sam wiggled his finger, staring at it. He didn't feel anything and didn't see anything. "You mean... I heal quick? Like...Wolverine?"

"I do not understand your reference." Ratchet frowned. "The creature you speak of does not possess such regenerative abilities."

Sam sighed with a grin. "Forget it. It's cool. I can't get hurt anymore." He said softly. "That's wicked cool, actually."

"Correction." Ratchet said warningly. "You can get 'hurt', but you will recover. We cannot be certain of the reach of these abilities, therefore I would not attempt testing them."

"Yeah.." Sam said flushing. "No jumping off buildings, got it."

"Now, I would like to investigate this ability you have to connect with mechs." He frowned eyeing him. "Bumblebee mentioned you were able to access his comm. system and share visual images."

"Yeah..." Sam agreed, looking up at him. "It was weird, I could FEEL him...there in my head.. then when we separated I could feel him gone..."

"Curious." Ratchet said bemused. "It seems a deeper connection than simple comm. links. If you would not mind, I would like to test it out myself." He said slowly. "However, I must attempt some safety features first, one moment." He turned and began to connect some cables from the computer to himself, unplugging some fuses and switches within his chassis as he worked, then turned back to Sam. "If there is a power surge, I have programmed the computer to send an interrupt signal to my processor, triggering a five second shut-down. My hope is this will also break your connection in case of an emergency."

"I hope so." Sam said, bemused. "I wouldn't want to fry the medic..."

"That would be inconvenient." Ratchet agreed wryly then offered a finger.

Sam took a slow breath and reached out placing his own hand on the mech's, and waited.

Nothing.

Ratchet blinked at him then let out a windy sigh. "I see. It is as I suspected."

"What is?" Sam asked curiously.

"Your apparent ability to connect is dependant on whether or not the recipient has a connection to the Allspark. I cannot access these functions as I do not have the ability."

Oh, well he guessed that made sense. "So only like… Bee and Optimus could do this?"

"Of those present, they are the only two with connections to the Allspark, yes." Ratchet agreed. "It may be eventually when you gain control over this unique opportunity yourself you may be able to interface in a new way, however for the time being it seems your connection is limited to those who understand to manipulate it's power." He turned back to input some data into the computer, leaving Sam to gaze around the medical bay.

It gave him the chance to think this over. He hadn't learned much more than he'd guessed or wondered about. Bumblebee seemed to understand the situation as much as Ratchet did in this case, which made him feel slightly better prepared. If he had a friend who understood, it would be easier to cope. Still the knowledge that he suddenly had become something… super-human was the only word he could place to it, was unnerving. His head spun with the reality of it.

However, his thoughts were interrupted when the sound of metal on metal grinding behind him caused both of them to look in the direction of the doors. Ratchet picked up a wrench preparing to hurl it, but hesitated as the Autobot leader ducked into the medical bay. Wheeljack was hovering outside, but didn't follow within. Sam felt a strange clench in his chest. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation either. Optimus had a quiet sense of disapproval in him already, and merely nodded to Sam as he entered. "Prognosis?"

"He's in perfect health, considering." Ratchet replied, thoughtfully. "Better than he was before, even. But I would be careful what you let him do." He warned. "There's no telling where his untrained powers could take him. I trust you can teach him a thing or two about the Allspark, but for Primus' sake be careful." he glared at them both. "I don't want two casualties on my hands."

"I promise to play it safe!" Sam insisted. "Geeze, give me some credit here."

"It's not you I'm worried about." Ratchet glared. "You can't control it, HE can."

"Come, Sam." Optimus offered his hand, stopping any further arguments. "We must talk."

"Yeah." Sam sighed.

They traveled back out of the building, and Sam glanced around seeing a few others still chatting to the side. Optimus instead walked up the sloping incline and out the entrance into the bright sunshine. Sam sighed and smiled at the warmth, sitting comfortably on his wide palm as they walked. "Sam, I am concerned that you did not feel comfortable in confiding in us about this." The mech's deep voice eventually rumbled as he stopped just outside the entrance, the open desert spreading out around them in a wide shimmer of heat and mirage. It was warm, but not uncomfortable for the human. "Was there a reason?"

Sam sighed. It was almost like being chided by his father. Worse than that, he felt as if he'd let down a close friend. "I don't know. I thought maybe it wasn't anything big...I didn't realize how bad it had gotten until Barricade told me."

Optimus sighed. "That was perhaps not the wisest move on his part... however, I should have spoken with you first." He said slowly. Sam looked up blinking at the mech in surprise. "Yes, Sam.. I had a feeling that the Allspark had made an impact on you. Unlike the others, as it's keeper I have a unique connection to the artifact." He clarified, with a breezy sigh. "I was not certain what it meant, and I did not wish to alarm you prematurely. I thought it could wait until you returned. It seems I was mistaken."

Sam glanced down, uncertain how to feel about that. "It's ok, Optimus, really it is. I understand why you didn't tell me." He said softly. "I guess there's no helping it now, I know and I've actually kinda accepted it I guess." He wrapped his arms around his knees and sat there staring out into the desert. "I guess the only question I have is, what will happen to me? Is this it? Or will there be more? Am I gonna... I dunno." he cringed at the thought. "Stop being who I am?"

"No, Sam I do not believe that will happen." Optimus said softly. "The Allspark is able to adapt to it's circumstances, but it does not drive out sentience. I carried it close to me for many years, and it never once attempted to encroach upon me, even when I used it's gifts." His optics focused on the human in his hand. "I believe it will become a symbiotic relationship of sorts. You will become a part of it, as it will of you, but your mind is unique and distinct, where the Allspark has no mind to speak of, only instinct."

That made him feel a little better. He'd stay himself in his head, then... but what about everything else... "I guess that's good to know." He said quietly. "Do you think... Ratchet mentioned maybe you could teach me how to use it."

"Yes, Sam." Optimus said solemnly. "That is possible, but I would not wish to make any attempt until Ratchet has given me a full diagnostic. However, with this development, I must speak to you about what you plan to do with your life." His optics focused on the small human. "I understand that in a year and six months time you will finish your required education. From my research, then you have the option to attend further schooling."

"Yeah, college." Sam said softly. "I don't really know yet, but... well I know my folks want me to go to college, but really..." He looked up at Optimus with a grin. "What do they teach on alien physics and social interaction? I don't think I could learn anything more fascinating than spending more time with you guys."

Optimus chuckled quietly. "I understand, Sam. If you wish to remain here with us, I will welcome your presence. However, it would be wise to inform your parents of your decision, and bring them into the ring of knowledge of our existence. It would be unfair to continue to deceive them."

"Yeah..." Sam agreed with a sigh. "You're right of course... but that's gonna be hard to explain to them."

"I am certain you will perform admirably. However, I also have one more request to make of you." This time he hesitated, and Sam got the distinct impression that Optimus was suddenly uncertain. He waited patiently while the leader gathered his words. "I would never presume to ask anything unreasonable of you, Sam. To do so would be selfish. But I must ask what your intentions are for long-term goals."

Sam blinked and lowered his gaze. He hadn't thought about that himself yet. He had a few options, he supposed. But as he sat there, he realized that most of those options weren't really acceptable anymore, given what was now happening to him. Sure he could pretend it hadn't happened and try to adjust to life as normally as he could…However….

He felt guilty. After all, it had been him who had 'destroyed' the Allspark. He knew that they depended on it for…well, everything. "Optimus? Can I ask a question." He said thoughtfully.

"Certainly."

"The Allspark…you said that with it you could use it to rebuild your planet, right?"

"Yes Sam." Optimus said slowly. "It does have amazing regenerative capabilities."

Sam thought that over. He had a chance here… a chance to do something incredible if only he could get past his human failings and stop being so terrified about what this meant for him. It wasn't HIM that he should be thinking about after all… He had just been given a gift… a gift no one else could possibly use. A gift that was unique in the universe…who was he to act selfishly and turn his back on this? He looked up with a steady gaze, staring out into the setting desert sun. "I know what it is you want from me." He said finally, in a low quiet voice. "And I know why."

"Sam…"

"No, let me finish." He said, taking a deep breath. He wasn't going to have the courage to say this again, he had to do it now before he lost his nerve. "Without the Allspark, your people are basically screwed. You have nowhere to go and can only take refuge in places that aren't your own home. You can't risk being careless or you'll lose more of your ranks, and you can't replace them right now. I don't really have a choice here, do I?"

"Of course you do, Sam." Optimus sounded a bit alarmed, his optics staring down at the human with concern. "I would never seek to ask you to…"

"Hold on, kay. Lemme finish." Sam said insistently, holding his hand up to stop the mech from finishing his sentence. "I said I don't have any options here, not because of you, the Decepticons or heck even the Allspark…" He lifted his eyes up to the sky, staring into it thoughtfully. "I have no choice because I already MADE that choice. I made it the moment I chose to go with Bumblebee the night you arrived. I knew that the moment I did that my life was going to change. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I knew at that moment that whatever DID happen, I wanted to be a part of it. And that hasn't changed." He lifted his eyes back to Optimus again. "I have the chance to do something amazing here, Optimus. Something NO human could ever dream of doing. The Allspark knew what it was doing, because it somehow knew I had made the choice already, even though I had no idea myself. It knew that no matter what happened, I wanted to help you. It knew that was the only thing I wanted, and I wanted it badly. I wanted to stop Megatron, I wanted to become something important to myself, to everyone else. That's why I think it chose me to do this. I know it did. It could have done anything, but it didn't…it decided to use it's power, it decided to leave that power to someone who wanted to do good with it." He closed his eyes. "I have the chance to do something amazing here, Optimus. I have the ability to help you guys…and if what Ratchet says is true and the thing is regenerating, that means eventually I might be able to do just that, help you. I could help you rebuild Cybertron." He said firmly, looking up at the leader with blazing brown eyes, firm in their decision. "I know I have a choice. I know I could choose to go and do the normal thing, go to college, maybe start a family… and I don't say that I don't wanna do that but… between the two choices, doing the 'normal' thing, and doing something amazing, what would you pick?"

Optimus' optics watched the small human with quiet reservation, not interrupting, but Sam could see the tenderness, the pride shining down at him.

"Out of all the things I could do with my life, choice or not, I know what I want to do. I want to help you. That's the only thing I think I ever wanted to do the moment I met Bumblebee. There is absolutely nothing else in this world, or the others out there for that matter, that I would rather do. I want to help. I'll do anything I can to help, whether it's learning to control the Allspark, or just being nearby to lend advice. I know what I want to do."

Optimus was silent for a while, turning over this decision Sam had made. Sam felt nervous and excited at the same time. He'd just taken a step in a whole new direction for his life, and he was glad. It might be scary and unknown, but it was the right thing. "Thank you, Sam for confiding in me." Optimus finally rumbled. "I must admit selfishly, that knowing you wish to assist us causes tremendous relief. The knowledge that something of the Allspark survives and that you wish to assist us in it's use is a weight off my processors. Therefore allow me to make a suggestion for you to consider." Sam looked up expectantly at the robot leader, and Optimus' optics focused down on him. "If you wish to assist us, you must learn some new methods and tactics. We are soldiers, Sam. You would be extremely vulnerable in any application without some common knowledge of similar tactics. I would like you to consider undergoing your own military's training under Lennox's supervision before returning to our ranks in a full time capacity."

Sam blinked. "You want me to join the army?"

"You do not have to become officially linked with that organization if you prefer, but I do believe you will learn valuable survival skills there that we cannot possibly provide. You must be able to defend yourself if thrown into an uncertain situation. You handled yourself admirably in the battle before." Optimus praised kindly. "But you could learn much. This would give you a new perspective, and train you towards further instruction under our ranks."

Sam turned that over, his head spinning. Military? He could see why it made sense, still he'd never seen himself as that kind of guy. People yelling in your face, shooting weapons, running from explosions… yet suddenly he knew why it made sense. Working with the Autobots was going to be dangerous and potentially deadly if they ran into another firefight with the Decepticons, and he assumed that was going to happen eventually despite the fact they were laying low as of late. Once they re-grouped and if they happened to hear the information from a certain rogue ex-'con, then Sam would be placed in danger. If he chose the normal life, even more so. His friends, his family, and those around him would be exposed to a dangerous situation if the Decepticons learned he was harnessing the Allspark's power inside him. They would risk at nothing to gain that power themselves. Becoming a soldier made sense. He would be able to defend himself, learn how to survive. Still, the idea was scary as hell. He'd have to think it over first. "I'll consider it." He finally agreed. "I think you're right but it's gonna take a while for me to get used to it… and then I gotta tell my folks." He sighed. This wasn't going to be fun. "I think you're right… I could learn a lot on how to survive, and it'd help if I go out on missions with you guys." Sam grinned.

"As long as Ironhide doesn't annihilate me with his cannons, we're all good."


	16. Interlude Seven: Ratchet

**How it Is**  
**Interlude Seven: Ratchet **  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"All right, let's see what we can't figure out here." Ratchet muttered, pointing to the metal table in front of him. "Up." Barricade moved to the table in silence, sitting down and reclining flat on the table without protest. Ratchet's optics flickered back towards the mech, frowning a bit. He hadn't quite believed Bumblebee when the scout had told him that Barricade's memory AND personality processors were blank. It was possible to dump or corrupt memory, but personality subroutines? Those were typically hard wired into the core processor, and it would be a very severe pulse indeed that would disable it, plus other functions should be offline. The fact they were not puzzled him. But then, they were all in a new situation here. Sam's inability to control the Allspark energy within him was a wild card at best, and Ratchet had no idea what that energy was capable of. "So." he said matter-of-factly as he turned to his patient. All factions aside, he was a medic, and this was his patient. He had a responsibility to his patients. "Tell me what exactly you have access to."

"Primary functions enabled. Transformation circuits enabled. Weapons systems offline. Scanning systems enabled. Core memory disabled." The mech listed off simply.

"Any pain, unusual blocks, or corrupted files?"

"Negative. I am uncertain in regards to corrupted files, however. I cannot access my diagnostic routines."

"Interesting." Ratchet said, slightly surprised. "Well let's see what we have here. I'm going to put you offline and do some diagnostics. Earlier, I noticed that you had some damage to your spark casing. Would you object if I took a look at it?"

"I have no objections."

Ratchet grimaced. Well, he had patient approval, though he doubted that Optimus would agree. Technically this patient wasn't in his right mind and his opinion therefore invalid. But Ratchet wasn't about to tell Optimus this. He could be angry at him later, IF he found out that is. What he didn't know... "Very well, I will perform the diagnostics and place you online when I am finished." And with that, he initiated the medic's override codes and shut the mech down. It was a handy thing to have, those codes. Ironhide would give his left arm before handing HIS over. Ratchet would have given BOTH his arms to have Ironhides' codes.

He began to hook up wires to the internal components both to himself and the mech on the table, picking up a human trait he found endearing: whistling. He wasn't bad at it either, and it soothed him while he worked. Ironhide made the mistake of asking him about it once... the weapons specialist still hadn't gotten the smell of antiseptic out of his missile launchers. Ratchet turned towards his patient, and flexed his fingers. "Let's see what we have here."

He turned his optics off, and initialized the medic's diagnostic routine. Instantly Barricade's systems began to pop up on his internal view screen one by one. Ratchet hummed softly as he scanned the list. Most of the protocols appeared correctly aligned. However the moment he pulled up the core memory, he stopped humming and let out a low whistle. "Well boy, you sure wreaked havoc on his systems." He murmured, delving into the memory core and studying the layout. Corruptions were riddled all across the pathways like crumpled buildings. At first glance he knew it was all repairable, and not too hard. Apparently Barricade had attempted to block the energy, slamming up a few firewalls against the surge, but it hadn't helped completely stop the flow of energy, nothing could. But he'd done an admirable job against the mental surge. Ratchet carefully began to repair the damage, linking corrupted files together and running his reformatting program on them as he moved through the mess of files. In a way he was slightly disappointed that the damage was easy to fix. He hadn't had a decent challenge since the Twins were around. He cleaned up what he could, threw out a few completely degenerated memory files that he couldn't salvage, and then defragmented the core processor as he pulled back, glancing at his internal chronometer. Only a few earth hours had passed, not bad for a quick patch job. Now...

He onlined his optics and pushed the hidden catch in the mech's armor, pulling the outer chassis off it's hinges and peering down into the interior wiring and pipes. Buried there amidst the rest of Barricades' critical pumps and valves was the fragile spark casing. Ratchet had noticed that for some reason Barricade did not have a secondary protective shell like most mechs did. They had outer armor, and an inner armor to help protect the fragile casing. It was made of tough stuff, but it was thin due to the need for the spark's energy to flow through the body. Ratchet's optics scanned the area carefully, and he paused.

Now that was interesting.

He zoomed in on a certain place next to some primary coolant pipes and stared. Yes, his optics seemed to be registering that correctly. He HAD been mistaken. Barricade had once possessed a secondary shield, but someone had expertly cut and welded it off. The seam was right there along the pipes, a piece of metal soldered off flat against the metal. His optics shifted to the other side, seeing the same thing, as well as above and below. Sure enough, someone had expertly cut OUT the secondary plating that should be protecting the spark casing.

Interesting indeed.

Ratchet pondered that. What possible explanation could a medic have for removing it? To do spark casing repair work was the obvious answer, however the smartest thing to do would be replace it when the work was finished, as leaving it unprotected was dangerous. Theories: whoever had been performing the work had been interrupted and unable to finish, there was some tactical reason to not replace it, or the work had been shoddy. He dismissed the last option. The cuts on the plating were too precise. Whoever had done this had been a seasoned medic with expertise. So that left either an inability to finish or some kind of tactical advantage. Ratchet thought it over, but after several breems of thinking, couldn't come up with a single tactical advantage to not replacing the part. But then this left a new question, why had Barricade not had the work finished at some other time? Perhaps the war had interrupted the chance and he hadn't run into a capable medic. But if that were the case, why had he protested so much when he'd offered to repair it earlier? No, there was something else that he wasn't thinking of.

He sighed windily. Well, staring at solder marks wasn't going to get him anywhere. His optics shifted as he leaned closer to get a better look at the damaged spark casing.

Whoa... wait one nanoclick. What was THAT?

Ratchet's optics zoomed in with a whirr, staring at the spark casing in disbelief. The last time he'd looked at it, there had been serious cracks, gaps and missing pieces in the plating, as if someone had delivered a severe blow directly, trying to permanently offline him. But now... Ratchet couldn't believe it. The marks were still there, but they were fine and hairline with silver solder lining each crack, completing the spark casing again, making it whole. Ratchet carefully brought a tool up and pushed it to the casing, testing it with a sensor for durability. It registered as solid and strong. "Frag, boy." he whispered. "You repaired his damage." He was impressed. Sam hadn't intended to do it he knew, but the end result was astonishing. If he'd unknowingly healed damage that even Ratchet couldn't fix, that told him something. He pulled back, optics returning to normal as he sat back frowning. Damaged spark casing, repaired. At least he didn't have to lie to Optimus then. But the puzzle baffled him. Who had damaged him, who had cut out the secondary protective shell? And why did this sound familiar...?

He turned back to the memory defragmentation. It was nearly done. There were still a few blocked segments however, so he dove back into have a closer look at that. The first was an encrypted cluster of large files, with multiple firewalls and coded sequences. Clearly that cluster was his Decepticon encoded memories. As much as he'd LOVE to hack into those, he had better things to do at the moment, so he passed them by, and focused on the last two clusters. The first was damaged and incomplete, missing several sequences in the file. He frowned and jumped a few temporary pathways in place then initialized the block, and was thrown into a memory cluster.

It was in the midst of battle.

Cannon fire was exploding everywhere, slamming holes into buildings nearby showering hot molten sparks into his optic view as a snarl escaped the lips of the mech whose eyes he was seeing through. "Someone tell that FRAGGER Starscream that when I get back his AFT is mine!" Barricade's voice boomed out, furious. "He SET US UP!"

"You're telling me?!" Another voice snarled nearby out of sight, as Barricade focused more on keeping himself from being shot, ducking another blast. "He knew he was sending us into a hopeless situation, that's why he didn't come. Him and his oily nosed bunch of slagging pit-spawn fliers."

"Cursing him out won't help us right now." Another voice spat angrily. "We have to find a way out of here. Does anyone have an active comm. system?"

"Negative, mine's toast."

"Same."

"Mines' on the fritz but it might get a signal out, won't be coded though."

"Do it. Call Soundwave. Him and Vortex were causing havoc near here, if they can draw the fraggers fire then maybe we can get out of here."

"Done."

But whatever happened next exploded in a sudden blast of hot golden light, and a sudden burst of static and scream of agony. The last part of the memory was the corrupt part, images, sound and sensations of intense pain, with only a single thought intact. _Didn't wanna go out like this._

Ratchet blinked as the memory finished, and shuddered instinctively. He'd seen war, he'd seen gruesome battle scenes, but he'd never seen death through another's eyes before. And he knew that scene had been Barricade's closest brush with it. In fact... He stared at the cluster, frowning. The damage to it was written by the mech himself, in a corrupted encryption routine, as if the end of the cluster had been written by damaged processors. Ratchet felt a sinking feeling in his pumps. Had this actually been Barricade's death? Had the mech's spark actually given up? No, he was still alive so that couldn't be it. However... Ratchet was a bit unnerved.

He turned his internal attention back to the task. There was one more corrupted file. This one was completely different from the others. As he stared at it, he felt his processor turn it over even more confused at what he was seeing. It wasn't just a different kind of corruption, it wasn't even encoded in the mech's own encryption methods. It looked almost as if it'd been written by someone else entirely... by the medic perhaps? Why though? He pulled the file up, and stared at the damage. Odd... there was a heavy firewall built around it in the standard high-level encryption Barricade had assigned his Decepticon cluster. That firewall was completely different from the damaged cluster, as if it had been written after the damage...

What was he hiding... from himself even? Ratchet frowned.

"Ratchet?" A voice startled him out of his thoughts and he quickly onlined his optics, lifting them to see his commander standing over him. "How goes the diagnostic."

"Well." The medic replied, straightening up. "I have repaired the memory corruption. Luckily Sam didn't know what he was doing. He just appeared to release pure energy, Barricade sensed it just before it released and was able to protect his critical files, but the pathways connecting them were damaged. It was an easy repair. He could have done it himself given time, but this worked faster."

"Excellent." Optimus said, his blue optics studying the offline mech. "But that isn't what has you brooding in here. If it were so simple, you would not have forgotten the meeting I set up for this afternoon."

"Slag, was that today?" Ratchet cursed. "I'm sorry, Prime. You're right, I did forget." He frowned. "I ran into an...unusual mystery."

"How so?"

The CMO looked down at the silent mech frowning. "Sam's energy burst didn't just short out his fuses, it also had another unexpected side-effect. The damage to his spark casing has been repaired."

"Really?" Optimus sounded surprised. "Completely?"

"It's stable." Ratchet said simply. "You can see the scarring, but it's whole again, solid. But that's not the only thing." He gestured for Prime to look closer, and pointed down into the open mech's chest. "There's no secondary plating. It was cut out and not replaced."

"That is quite unusual, is it not?"

"Highly." Ratchet agreed. "I can't find any reason why a medic wouldn't replace it, unless whoever was working on him was in such a hurry they couldn't do anything more than save his life, slam his chest plate shut, and get him moving again...but even then, I imagine he'd finish the job once the battle they might have been in was over... No medic I know would make such precision cuts but fail to replace such an important safety system." Optimus frowned, staring down at the open chassis. He was silent, which made Ratchet suddenly suspicious. "Optimus? Do you know something about this?"

"Perhaps." He said softly. "It may be a highly unlikely concept, however." He straightened back up, optics still studying Barricade. "Ratchet, may I ask if you ever worked with Barricade or had any opportunity to view his tactics before the war began?"

"Hmm." Ratchet scanned his databanks for any reference. "I remember seeing him a few times, young squirt under Megatron's command. But I never interacted with him, and during the war I was mostly busy in med bays doing patch jobs. Why?"

"Because something has been puzzling me ever since encountering him after the Mission City battle." Optimus replied softly. "From my experience, Barricade lived up to his name. He was relentless, brutal and unmoving. When he was given a task, he moved forward and completed it without hesitation, and did not let anything stand in his way. He did not have patience, preferring to move and take action as soon as he could."

"So?"

"So..." Optimus said slowly. "Since I have been observing him after his apparent surrender, he has not lived up to my data banks memory of him. He has been cunning, careful and patient, not impulsive."

"So he grew up a bit. We all changed, Prime. The war made sure of that. You yourself know that better than anyone. I remember when you were just a punk kid terrified of the upgrades upon taking office."

"Yes..." Prime smiled a little at that. "We all had to change, you are correct." His smile faded. "However, there have been other things bothering me. Sam told me that Barricade claimed the only reason he surrendered to us was to get closer to Sam himself... with intentions of further investigating his connection to the Allspark."

"Interesting. So he knew before we did." Ratchet mused. "I still don't see why that's important."

"Why would he seek the Allspark?" Optimus mused. "He knew he was not one of it's compatible subjects if he has been tracking Sam patiently for this long."

"Maybe he just was curious?"

"Perhaps." Optimus leaned back with a sigh. "Did you discover anything else unusual?"

Ratchet paused. It was neither smart nor useful to withhold information from his commander, so he spoke up. "I uncovered two corrupted files that do not make sense. One appears to be a memory of Barricade on the wrong end of a damaging blow that possibly knocked him offline for a very long time. The end is corrupt...and incomplete." He said uncertainly.

"And the other?"

"I haven't had a chance to look at it yet. It's encoded with a high-level firewall that he apparently wrote himself. I was considering disabling it to see what he's hiding from himself when you entered." He lifted his optics, hopefully.

Optimus stared down at Barricade thoughtfully. "This is separate from his Decepticon clusters I assume?"

"Yes, sir. It's one memory."

"And you say he's encoded a firewall around it so he himself cannot access it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well." Optimus said finally. "You have permission to break through the firewall and access the file. However, you will share it's contents with me before waking him. If he encoded it from himself, chances are he will not take kindly to seeing it was accessed."

"Understood." Ratchet said grinning as he dove back in, knowing Optimus would wait while he worked. The firewall was a piece of work. It was as strong if not stronger than his encryption for his faction's secrets. In fact, Ratchet had only seen such strong protocols in a few mechs before, and each of them had something worth protecting behind it. So he set to work. It took a very long time to analyze the firewalls and find a weakness, then initiate a back-door program to break through. In the end, he finally was able to access the file and pulled out, feeling his energy reserves dipping. Optimus was still waiting, though it appeared he was in recharge, standing there calmly waiting, optics dim. "I think I have it." Ratchet announced, and the leader's optics flickered back on as he came back online. "Would you like to view it with me?"

"Yes."

"Very well." Ratchet pulled another cable and attached it to Optimus' optic port and then dove back in, and pulled the file up and played it.

At first, it was so badly corrupted that all they got was static. So, Ratchet began to patch a few pathways, clearing up audio first. The words came through loud and startling.

"No! I've told you all I know...!" The voice was ragged, harsh, strained, processors cracked and hoarse, and unrecognizable.

"So true, all you know." Came a very familiar reedy voice, nearly glowing with glee. Starscream. "But there are still things you can do for us..."

"What do you want, to tear the spark from my chassis?! Just be done with it!"

There was a high laugh that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. "Oh no... not just yet." A pause. "Bring it in."

There was another pause, followed by a strangled choked cry. "No... no you wouldn't!"

"Nighty night!"

And that was it.

Ratchet frowned, staring up at his leader who was standing there expressionlessly. "Can you give us visuals?"

"A little perhaps...but it won't help us." Ratchet frowned. "It'll be from his point of view."

"Try please." Ratchet flinched, not liking the tone which was flat and cold. It was the voice of his Commander, not his friend.

He bent back down and began to analyze the data file once more, carefully patching the frail corrupted segments together. It was painstaking detail, the kind he hated doing, yet prided himself in being skilled at. Finally, hours later, he pulled out again and nodded to Optimus who had waited patiently, and they played it once more.

This time, the images that complimented the words were far more telling. It was static filled, color deprived and seemed to flicker in and out. They could see Starscream looming over their mech, gloating in that irritating way he did, apparently in what looked like an abandoned or damaged medical bay. There were other shapes around at the fringe of vision, but they couldn't tell who they were.

But the last image spoke more volumes than anything else possibly could. The mech's optics focused on a large form being wheeled in on a cart. "No... no you wouldn't!" Ratchet's pumps paused in horror, seeing the familiar figure laying on the cart, staring lifelessly at the ceiling with dead optics.

"Nighty night!" The scene went black and everything ceased.

Ratchet pulled out silently, staring down at Barricade in horror. "Primus." he whispered quietly. His optics slowly lifted to Optimus, who had pulled the optical cable out and was staring down at the mech with a sudden soft expression. "It was an unwilling spark transplant." Ratchet whispered. "That other memory wasn't just any attack... it WAS Barricade dying... that was his last memory..."

"Before they placed the spark of another into his dead shell." Optimus said quietly.

"Fraggers!" Ratchet snarled, his fist finding the nearest wall and burying itself into the yielding metal with a whine of protest. "I knew they did things like this but…" Optimus was silent, staring down at the mech in somber reflection. Ratchet scowled, but his scowl evaporating staring down at the mech with realization. "So you were right…the reason he behaved differently than you remember was because despite the same memories and personality subroutines in place, it was a different soul residing inside." He shook his head, wishing that there were some way to express his fury without denting the walls. "Fraggers." He repeated softly.

"It is sad." Optimus agreed quietly. "I was aware of these tactics that the Decepticons employed against us during the war, but we never had the chance to prove it."

"Of course not." Ratchet said gloomily. "How could we, to us they were just all Decepticons, we couldn't know that our enemies had stole sparks from our fallen comrades and put them in the dead shells of their own warriors. Such a thing… it must be overwhelmingly unimaginable for a spark… memories and personality hard-wired into the host's body, but a spark that didn't match." He grit his hand against the wall angrily. "I heard stories that some went mad before being deployed, fighting against the fate handed them by the Decepticons… refusing to accept the new host out of repulse for the memories and behavior being forced on them. But even worse must it be to have your soul unwillingly accept the transplant, and knowing something was wrong…but having no memories of your own to prove who you were…"

"Yet one memory survived." Optimus mused softly. "Do you know how this is possible?"

"I've heard that if a memory on a mech's mind is so strong, so personal, so important… that it can imprint on the very spark itself and carry over. Some mechs whose processors were irreparably damaged still managed to remember one or two small glimpses of their life before when they awoke on my operating table." He said quietly. "This mech must have hung onto that one memory… and he knew it was conflicting with Barricade's personality and memory sub-routines, so he locked it away so it couldn't distract him. He kept it hidden from himself so even he wouldn't know…"

Optimus sighed quietly, his optics suddenly sad and pitying. "Then it is unlikely we will ever know who's spark was placed within Barricade during the transplant."

"Most likely." Ratchet agreed heavily. "But my guess is that whoever it was, either was a rogue Decepticon, but more likely… an Autobot prisoner. They got a kick out of making our own allies into our enemies… it's exactly their kind of tactic." He sighed. "Either way, it doesn't matter who he was… he's not that person anymore and never will be again, not without core memories and personality sub-routines. He's still Barricade… only…"

They both were silent at the implications.

Only…he once had been someone else…and on a different side.

"Perhaps this explains why he sought the Allspark… for answers." Ratchet said quietly. "Maybe he thought that it's power might help him figure out who he really is…or get rid of the pesky memory, either way…"

"It's likely." Optimus agreed quietly.

"Do you have any ideas who he might have been?" Ratchet asked quietly. "It would have had to be a captured prisoner of war, spark intact."

"It could have been any number of soldiers." Optimus said shaking his head. "Judging on his behavioral patterns, I cannot even begin to surmise a guess. It is Barricade who we have been observing, and will continue to observe."

"Should I lock the memory back up then?"

Optimus was silent for a long time, staring at the figure on the bed, before speaking softly. "No. He has a right to know. My belief is that he might wish to know as it stands. He likely built the firewall shortly after the transplant, and forgot about it up until now, though his sub-conscious seemed drawn to the Allspark nonetheless. Leave it. If he wishes to lock it up again, he can do it himself again. But I believe he may wish to explore it further…"

"Perhaps we might eventually find out whose spark resides within him, and welcome a friend home once more."


	17. Chapter 10: Parental Units

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 10: Parental Units**  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"Hey Sam." Ron Witwicky waved as his son hopped out of the large black truck he'd seen before. It was massive with dark tinted windows, the kind you moved over quickly for, but he guessed belonged to that military guy Sam knew...Will something... "How was your camping trip?"

"Oh...interesting." Sam said grinning as he walked over across the yard to his dad who was currently watering the line of trees by the house. "Hot, dusty... uncomfortable. I need a shower, you know how it is."

"Yup." Ron agreed chuckling. He remembered romps with his guys back in the day. "Uncomfortable ground, itchy bugs... I miss it now and then. You and me'll have to do some father-son camping some time."

"Yeah sure, dad." Sam actually sounded interested. "That'd be fun."

"Oh and son?"

"Yeah?" Sam paused, one foot on the step up to the door.

"Your mom's on the warpath." He warned quietly. "She called Miles...found out you weren't with him." He was satisfied to see Sam's face drain of color. "Now I don't care if you want to sneak off with your girlfriend as long as we know you're being respectable." He raised an eyebrow hopefully.

"Dad!" Sam sputtered, going from white to red. "Yes! I'm not... that's not... I'm not gonna...geeze!"

Ron chuckled, and patted his son's shoulder. "Ok, son. Good boy. But your mom's still furious." He lowered his voice more. "She was snooping again."

Sam sighed. "Figures." He muttered. "Good thing I learned to hide anything incriminating in my school locker when I was like, five."

"I don't think I can stall her long." Ron admitted. "She's going for blood this time. I can't really keep asking her to back off, she's your mother and you know how she is."

"Yeah." Sam sighed, rubbing his head a bit with a frown. "Well... I think it's time we all talked anyway... so I'll see what I can do."

"Good luck. I'd go up the back if I were you."

"Got it."

Ron watched as Sam carefully snuck around towards his room, and began to scale the tree growing outside. Secretly Ron was a bit jealous. Sure, Sam wasn't an acrobat, but it had been a long time since Ron been able to do that, and he was a bit envious of his son as he flipped onto the balcony and into the hallway on sneaking feet.

The peace didn't last long. The moment Sam thought he was free as he opened his door, he froze. Judy Witwicky was sitting on his bed, arms crossed. _Oh boy... _"Hi mom." He said cheerfully, feeling the false modesty in his voice. Oh yeah, she was in The Mood.

"Sam." She said pleasantly, smiling warmly to her son, with all appearances of welcoming him home, however Sam noticed his cell phone was on the bed next to her, and her arms were still crossed. "How was your camping trip?"

"Um. Fine." He said awkwardly. Really, he didn't have a WHOLE lot to look out for here... He HAD been camping... on another continent. The only thing he'd actually lied about was going with Miles, and he regretted lying to Miles more than his mother. Her eyes were glittering dangerously. He tried to ignore it, dumping his dusty duffel on the floor and turning to face her.

"Sam. Do you want to tell me where you really were?" She asked in that same sweet voice. "Miles hasn't spoken to you in over a month."

Sam knew she knew that he knew it was true. She'd probably checked his email, if he knew her, and his phone logs. Suddenly, he felt a rebellious streak of anger flash within him. Damn it, this wasn't fair. He had to deal with more crap than she could understand, and she was giving him hell for it? Fine. "Ok, you wanna know?" He asked, crossing his arms, his brown eyes suddenly hard. She didn't break contact, and simply waited. "I was in Australia. Off-roading near Ayres Rock. Hot time of year down there, dusty and sunny. Got myself a tan." he pushed his sleeve up, revealing his browner than normal arms. "You should visit, pretty part of the world."

She blinked calmly at him, then smiled in that patronizing way. "Sam."

"Look, mom." Sam interrupted, sitting down on the bed next to her, and fixing her with a firm stare, as her eyebrows rose. "You want to know what's going on this last month? You REALLY want to know?" Her eyebrow twitched again. "I'll tell you everything at dinner, ok? But right now I'm tired, dusty and I want a long hot shower. I've been through hell..." _And seen the devil, his name is Ratchet._ "...and I just need to relax right now, ok? I promise you. The whole story, all your questions. Dinner."

She sat in silence for a minute, then nodded. "Ok, Sammy. Dinner. But you're going to answer all my questions truthfully."

"Scout's honor, mom." Sam said firmly. "Every question."

The shower felt heavenly. After being in the desert for a few days under the hot sun, then being poked and prodded and zapped in an alien medical lab, Sam felt relieved to enjoy this simple pleasure of letting the hot water run down his body. He stood there with eyes closed the whole time, not peeking until he got out. Then, he stole a glance in the mirror. It wasn't so bad, actually. The lines were still there, but he'd gotten so used to them that they didn't intimidate him. But there was one more thing he noticed, his stomach wasn't as flabby as it had once been. Granted, it wasn't like he was working out, it just looked like he'd dropped the junk food and started eating whole foods. He supposed that came from living off the Allspark's mojo, as he liked to call it now.

He dried off and dressed casually, then hung out in his room a bit before finally heading downstairs. Oddly enough, he didn't feel uncomfortable or nervous at what he was about to do. He did pause to do one thing before he walked into the kitchen area, knowing he was going to need all the help he could get with his folks. He took a deep breath, and entered the dining room. His mom was finishing up some kind of roast, and smiled as he walked in, his dad already lounging in a chair with a glass of wine, and nodded as he entered and sat down. The meal began calmly, chitchat and talk as usual. Sam ate a little, glad that he hadn't filled up on the plane since he was finally a bit hungry, and was able to actually stomach the food. But it didn't take Judy long to start her interrogation.

"So, Ron. Sam tells me he was in Australia this weekend. Can you imagine that?"

Ron's eyebrow lifted and he stared at his wife incredulously before turning his gaze to Sam. "Really?"

"Yeah." Sam said simply, sipping his water calmly. "I was." There was a long silence, as both of them stared at him, obviously not believing him, but torn between asking why he was lying or why he was joking. Sam just took another mouthful of soup, and met their gazes evenly.

"Really? What part?" Ron finally asked, his voice a bit tense, revealing he didn't believe his son.

"South central." Sam replied. "Near Ayres Rock, but a bit south of it."

"Nice time of year for it."

"Bit hot, but not bad. Weather was clear."

"Sam." Judy was becoming impatient. "Now come on, you don't honestly expect us to believe this?"

Sam shrugged, and put his soup spoon down, folding his hands. "I promised you I'd tell you the truth mom, and that I'd answer your questions. If you don't want to believe me that's your choice. But I'm going to stick to my word."

"So you really think we'd believe you went to Australia?"

"No." Sam said simply.

"Then why are you lying?"

"I'm not lying."

"You just said you were!"

"No I didn't." He said calmly. "You asked if I really expected you to believe I went to Australia. I said no, as in I don't expect you to believe me."

His parents exchanged glances. Ron simply shrugged, and Judy scowled. "Very well. Who were you with?"

"Mikaela, Will Lennox, the military guy you remember him, and two other friends."

"But not Miles."

"No, not Miles."

"So you lied about going with Miles."

"Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"Because if I'd told you I was going camping with an air force guy my girlfriend and two people you haven't met, you'd probably have said no."

"Damn right."

"So what did you guys do in Australia?"

"Picked up three new friends who just arrived."

"In Australia."

"Yup."

Judy Witwicky let out a frustrated sigh, glaring at her husband who smartly was just enjoying his soup. "So how did you get there?"

"Flew."

"How'd you pay for it?"

"Didn't have to."

"You flew on an airliner for free?"

"No, took a military jet."

"Oh." Judy looked puzzled, as if torn from wanting to believe her son, and wanting to throttle him for doing all this behind their backs. "So it was a military thing? You went with that nice Captain?"

"Yeah, you could say that. It was all legal and stuff."

"Why are you hanging out with the military, Sam?" His father asked casually, though his face told that he was struggling to stay calm. "After what they did earlier, I'm surprised you trust them."

"Sure I trust them, they're my friends. I don't trust Sector 7 though, and they're the ones who sacked our house."

"Sector 7?"

"I think they got disbanded." He said thoughtfully. "I remember Secretary Keller saying that they could 'burn in hell before he re-instated their sorry asses'... his words."

There was an extended silence. "You know the Secretary of Defense?" This time there was clear incredulity.

"Well I only met him once." Sam admitted. "But he was a nice guy."

Both his parents were staring at him with shock. "Sam..." Ron said slowly. "Maybe you should start at the beginning."

Sam smiled and folded his hands on the table. "I was hoping you'd say that." He glanced at his mother. "Ok I'll tell you the whole thing, but you gotta promise me one thing. No interruptions. Zip, nadda, nothing. You let me finish before you say one word, got it?" A slow nod from them both. "Okay then!" Sam said cheerfully. Oh he was going to enjoy this.

"It all started with great grandpa. Remember how he claimed to have found some ice-man in the arctic circle, they locked him up and called him crazy and all that stuff? Well, turns out he wasn't crazy at all, just what he said sounded like it was. In fact, the government took control, and made everyone think he was nuts since he had blabbed it to so many people. So they just took the easy road out and called him nuts." Sam sighed. "Too bad... I would have loved to prove him right before he died..." He said quietly, tapping his fingers on the table. "Anyway, the government took what grandpa found and moved it to somewhere safe, the Hoover Dam. They built it around what they dug out, tons of concrete to hide it from the public and stuff...and they hid it up until a few years ago." He leaned back taking a deep breath. So far, so good. But then he'd been careful not to mention aliens, UFOs, magical cubes and robots. "The government was experimenting with the findings. They had another item that they found and hid with what grandpa found." His eyes lifted slowly. "You remember when Sector 7 took you in... they probably talked about isotopes and contact and stuff? Did they mention aliens and UFO's?" Both his parents glanced at each other. That was enough answer for Sam. "Turns out, what grandpa found was not from Earth...neither was the other thing they were hiding. It's this huge metal cube with strange markings. They figured out that both the finds were from the same place..." He closed his eyes. "And were from another planet." He heard his parents breath intake, and he quickly charged ahead before they could interrupt. "So alien artifacts right? Figures someone'd come after them right?" He grinned. "Turns out they were right. That Gas explosion in Mission City wasn't a gas explosion as I'm sure you guessed... it was the aliens fighting among themselves to get this cube." He looked up and stuck his chin on his folded hands. "And I got pulled into it. That's how I got hurt, that's why the government was after us, that's why I've been acting funky lately, cause I keep remembering what happened there." He trailed off slowly, shuddering despite himself. "So...that's it in a nutshell. I've been working with the government cause I was pulled into this whole thing, and we were in Australia to meet up with some new arrivals." He looked up. "Ok, questions."

His parents were silent, staring at him with blank expressions. The steady ticking of the clock in the hallway was the only sound, aside from a random jingling as Mojo scratched an itch by his collar. His father was the first to speak. "Aliens?" Sam nodded calmly. "And gramps found one?" Sam nodded again. His father stayed silent, and downed his whole glass of wine in one gulp.

"Sam." Judy said slowly breathing out, looking suddenly nervous. "You don't really expect us to..."

"No, I don't." Sam said calmly. "I know it sounds crazy."

"I just don't know what to say, Sammy." His mother sounded distressed, and Sam knew she was picturing him following his grandfather's shoes.

Sam glanced out the window, and saw the expected flash of yellow he'd been waiting for. "Look, if you guys wanna think it over, it's cool. But if you want me to give you more details, I can."

"Sam...it's a wonderful story but really..." Judy bit her lip. "I wish you'd be honest with us."

Sam frowned. He knew it was incredible to believe, but he didn't like being called a liar. "You wanted the truth mom. There it is. Now you know why I didn't tell you."

"Sam..."

"Dad." Sam glanced at Ron, who was uncharacteristically silent. "I read the paper. Your dealership had some weird damage to it the same night those meteors hit, remember that? And the stadium was damaged by one, but they never found a meteor, said someone stole it." Ron glanced up at his son, a frown on his brow. "And there were all kinds of pictures and rumors going on across the internet about what happened in Mission City. And do you REALLY think government agents would arrest us and question us about aliens if something wasn't going on? Isn't that a lot of coincidences?"

His parents exchanged glances uncomfortably. "Ok..." Ron said finally. "Lets assume for the moment that what you say is true. Why is the government covering it up?"

"You honestly think the country's ready for real genuine alien encounters?" Sam asked raising an eyebrow. "Let alone other countries either wanting a cut of the action, or to know why we're hiding them within our borders?"

Ron twirled his wine glass, frowning. "I'd like to believe you. What you said about gramps..." He frowned more, closing his eyes. "I really wish I could believe you, son. But it's just... so..."

"I know, dad." Sam said simply. "It's hard to believe. Heck., I didn't believe it either. I thought I was going nuts. But then the most amazing thing happened." he leaned forward staring at them both with earnest eyes. "I met a really good friend who saved my life... and I saved his... and through that I got to see and do the most amazing things in my whole LIFE." He said quietly.

They exchanged glances again, and Judy just stared down at her hands, but Ron smiled a bit. "Your car stood up, huh?"

Sam grinned. "Oh so you DO remember that."

"Yeah, kind of hard to forget. That's related I take it?"

"Yeah." Sam said chuckling. "That's the friend I was talking about. His name is Bumblebee, and he's one of the aliens."

"Your...car?" Judy coughed.

"Yeah, my car." Sam grinned. "Why do you think I didn't mention that at first, then you'd really think I was nuts."

"I still think you're nuts." She said flatly, folding her arms. "I'm tired of this... I'm going to start the dishes."

"Wait." Sam said reaching out and catching her wrist before she got up. She paused. "Mom, Dad... I know you don't believe me, and it's a lot to think about. But Bumblebee's going to start hanging around again. He's pretty patient, and doesn't want me to push you. So if you want to go out and meet him, he's willing to get to know you. I'm gonna go outside and sit with him for a while... if you want to come outside, we'll be there. If you don't want to, that's fine too, ok?"

Judy bit her lip, and quickly turned to go into the kitchen. Sam sighed and sat back, running a hand through his hair before glancing at his dad, who looked speculative. "Your car, huh?" He said finally. "The yellow camaro?"

"Yeah."

"There was a lot of odd things about that car." Ron said suddenly. "That incident at the car dealership...that was related?"

"Yeah." Sam said smiling. "He was ordered to get closer to me...cause of grandpa...so he made an offer Bobby Bolivia couldn't refuse."

To his surprise, Ron chuckled at that. "You know...that's been bothering me the most. The 'car stood up' thing I could pass off to teenage weirdness...and your odd behavior...being arrested... and that whole thing with those MIB's...well I couldn't figure that out either. But that incident... I just couldn't come up with an answer as to why all the windows in all the cars except yours would suddenly burst...and that SOUND." He shuddered. "I had nightmares about that sound."

"Yeah..." Sam agreed quietly. "Me too." He murmured. Though his nightmares were for another reason... Bumblebee had made similarly distressed sounds when he'd been captured...and that's what had haunted him. "Anyway. Do you want to come meet him?" He looked up at his dad hopefully. Out of both his parents, his Dad had been the more practical one. He had his crazy moments, but then so did Sam. It ran in the family.

Ron Witwicky looked for a moment as if he were about to say no. However, Sam could see the curiosity in his eyes. It was that same curiosity that had kept Sam from running that night at the power plant when faced with a seventeen foot tall yellow robot. It was the Witwicky sense of adventure that had run in their family, and Ron had never gotten the chance to pursue. Finally, he looked up. "Why not." He said at last. "If you're crazy it won't hurt anything. If you're not..." He hesitated. "...Well, son, lets' just say I won't let her ground you for anything the rest of your life."

Sam grinned and stood up. "Great." He pushed out the front door without much hesitation, and his father pursued him albeit a bit hesitantly. Sam jogged down the steps and across the moist grass as they drew closer to the ally, where a shiny yellow concept Camaro sat parked in plain view. Sam turned as he walked just so he could see his father's face.

He wasn't disappointed. Ron Witwicky's pace had slowed the moment his eyes caught sight of a car that technically wasn't supposed to exist on the road yet, let alone a custom paint job like that. His footsteps slowed one by one as he stared wide-eyed at the shiny car. Sam could just imagine what was going through his father's mind. All month there had been no car parked here. His dad had seen him get out of the large black Topkick and there had been no car parked there. Suddenly, here it was apparently having arrived driven by either the most stupid guy ever for leaving it there open and unlocked with keys in the ignition, or there was something else going on here. "Holy cow, Sam." He finally managed as they stopped in front of the vehicle. "That…that is um…well…"

"I know what you're thinking." Sam grinned, leaning against the hood casually. "How on earth can a '75 Camaro with rust spots and smoky exhaust do a 180 on you?"

Ron's eyes lifted, staring incredulously at his son. "You said your car got destroyed."

"Well that was a bit of a stretch." Sam admitted. "He did get quite beat up though… but destroyed is such a strong word." He patted the hood. "Anyway, Dad this is Bumblebee, my guardian. What do you think?"

Ron Witwicky continued to stare. "I think… that's the best four-thousand dollars I ever spent." He laughed nervously, and hesitantly stepped around front to get a better look at it. "But…Sam I must admit I'm floundering a bit on what to think of this. How…?"

"Ok so here's the deal." Sam said simply. "See, Bee got a bit huffy when Mikaela called him a piece of crap… so he kinda kicked us out, pulled over and then showed off. This is the result." He grinned widely, and then wobbled as the car abruptly shifted under him. "Hey, dude I'm not complaining. I LIKE the new ride. I mean, sheesh, how many kids my age get to spin around in things like this. I'm just sayin', you DID get huffy."

Ron blinked at his son's apparent argument with the car. It had to be the strangest thing he'd ever seen. He ran a hand over his balding head, trying to let this all sink in, but either the wine was making him not think straight, or it was dulling his brain so he couldn't process it. "So this car…" He said finally. "…is the same car?"

"Yup." Sam said, crossing his arms, then his face brightened as he apparently got a new idea. "Wanna go for a ride?"

Weird or not, Ron Witwicky was a car man. He loved and appreciated flashy fancy wheels. "Are you kidding?" He said firmly, without hesitation. Alien or not… He opened the passenger door and slowly slid into the seat with a low whistle, as Sam hopped into the driver's side and started up the engine without hesitating. Ron had to admire it, as they pulled out slowly the car handled amazingly. It was smooth and practically purred underneath their seats. Sam barely seemed to be looking where he was going, hand lightly on the wheel, pulling back out of their ally with expert precision before performing an about turn that would have impressed the most seasoned stunt driver. Ron's heart thudded hard against his ribs as the car went from zero to sixty in a heartbeat, rocketing down their street like a streak of lightning, taking corners with loud squeals. "Holy…SAM!" He gasped out. "Slow down for Christ's sake!"

Sam just grinned and patted the wheel fondly. "Ok, slow it down a bit Bee. Don't scare him too much." And just like that the car pulled under the speed limit again as they drove down quiet back streets, twisting in and out of the residential neighborhood, heading away from town.

Ron shook his head, relaxing a little. "This is some car, Sam."

"You have no idea, dad."

Then Sam's previous words suddenly sunk in. _Wait a minute… _Ron felt the color draining from his face as he stared down at the polished interior. "So…this car is… um…"

"An alien." Sam said helpfully. "Yes."

"How is that even possible?" Ron demanded. All rationality should be tossed out the window at this point, no matter how good Sam could apparently drive. "It's a Camaro for crying out loud!"

Sam just grinned. "What'll really cook your noodle is that his friends consist of a couple emergency vehicles, couple of jeeps, a cop car, a semi-truck and that black truck that dropped me off."

Ron blinked. "The Topkick?"

"Yup. That's their weapons specialist. Trust me, you don't wanna mess with him."

Ron turned that information over. Either Sam had the most amazing imagination known to man, or he was about to forget everything he thought he knew when this turned out to be true. His heart pounded with unbidden excitement as the hope bloomed in his mind. _What if…_

Whatever the case, Ron Witwicky soon found himself faced with a difficult decision as the Camaro came to a stop atop a lookout above town, dusky sky dappled with stars as Sam turned to him, face completely serious. "Ok, Dad. This is it. If you really want to see the whole truth, step outside. If you're not ready for it, we'll go back home, no pressure."

Ron Witwicky glanced over at his son, his head spinning as he met with solemn brown eyes that showed no sign of backing down. Sam believed what he said… So that left two options: Sam was telling the truth, or Sam was crazy. Well, if he was crazy, nothing would happen if he got out of the car, now would it? Slowly, he opened the door and stepped out.

Sam joined him, far quicker and bouncing on the tips of his toes as he grabbed his Dad's shoulder and pulled him backwards a few steps. "Ok then! You'll wanna give him some room, and remember there IS a cliff behind you so don't try to run that way, ok?" Ron met his son's eyes which were glittering with unhidden excitement before he turned his attention to the car. "Ok, Bee. Go for it."

What happened next was something Ron Witwicky would never forget for the remainder of his life. At first, the car did nothing, simply sit there with headlights glowing in the dim light of the evening. Then…it transformed. It was the most intricate fascinating thing the man had ever seen. Seams split hidden from view moments before, elongating, opening to allow inner workings to show, shift, twist and move in a dance of mechanics that were far too complex to ever be thought up by the subconscious. In seconds, standing there towering over him was a seventeen foot tall yellow robot with glowing blue eyes.

Ron Witwicky stared, mouth agape before he realized two firm hands were the only thing keeping him on his feet. Sam was holding him up, grinning ear-to-ear next to him. "Dad, meet Bumblebee, he's my friend and appointed guardian. Bumblebee, this is my dad, Ron Witwicky."

The enormous robot moved slowly, as if it were afraid of startling the large man being held in place by his son, coming to a kneeling position before them so its head came closer. Ron stared intrigued and completely captivated watching small gears and plates shift minutely in a combination of working parts to form a smiling expression on the robot's face, bright glowing blue eyes focused down on him with a sudden narrowing of internal iris mechanisms to focus directly on him. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Ron Witwicky." The voice was louder than he expected, but spoken softly with a very polite English accent.

Ron couldn't help himself. "Sam…you got one hell of a deal."

* * *

The conversation became more relaxed as the evening progressed. At first, Ron hadn't been able to keep himself on his own two feet, so Sam had led him to a handy boulder nearby where the two humans sat, letting the giant robot lounge before them, comfortably sitting at eye-level to them. After listening to Sam's story about how exactly he had come to find out his old beat-up Camaro had turned out to be a super-advanced alien robot, Ron had to admit he saw his son in a whole different light. He could immediately identify the camaraderie the two had. Sam spoke casually to Bumblebee, and though Bumblebee was always unerringly polite and spoke formally, he too seemed comfortable and relaxed. Ron's favorite moment of the evening had been a very humorous exchange.

"Sam, there is one thing I believe you have mistaken." Bumblebee had spoken up after Sam had explained how the robot had single-handedly beat up some robotic cop car. "I was not 'huffy'."

"You were too!" Sam protested, sitting up on his elbows grinning at the robot. "You got pissed off! You kicked us out!"

"I merely was attempting to obtain a more appropriate form of travel for you, as you seemed to believe my current façade was inappropriate."

"Yeah well, again I'm not complaining." Sam grinned. "But you blended in better as that ol' piece of crap."

"I still have the schematics in my database, I could resume that form if you chose."

"No! I'm good!"

Ron grinned, shaking his head at the exchange. He had to hand it to Sam…the boy had a whole different side to him than he'd thought. And here he'd been worried he was dabbling in drugs. "So let me get this straight." He said finally, glancing up to the robot, taking it in with some awe still. "You two fought this war in downtown Mission City…destroyed this Allspark cube thing, and defeated the harbinger of death…." He paused glancing between the two. "So what's going to happen now?"

"Well…" Sam said slowly, and Ron noticed there was an uncertain edge to the boy's voice. "We thought we destroyed the cube." He said slowly. "And we did… the cube's gone. But the Allspark isn't quite destroyed."

"What do you mean? I thought you said you used it to blow up the bad robot?"

"Yeah." Sam said softly. "I did." He rubbed the back of his head then shot a glance to Bumblebee, as if silently pleading for help.

"Sam was exposed to it's energy." Bumblebee spoke up softly. "At first we did not think this was important, but it seems that the Allspark managed to leave something of itself behind in your son. He has taken to the news quite admirably." The scout was quick to say. "Many would not have such strength at learning this."

Ron blinked. "Wait…what does that mean?"

Sam sighed and glanced at his father with a guilty expression. "Well…it means that um…I can do some of the stuff the cube could. We're not sure what that means in the long-run yet, but Ratchet, he's their medic remember, he thinks that it could be important."

Ron frowned, turning that over in his head. This was a bit much for him to grasp all at once. "So…what does that mean?"

"It means, I'm thinking of joining them." Sam said finally after a long pause. "I can help them, and really I can't think a better thing in my life to do right now. I know mom wants me to go to college, but…" He shook his head. "I'd rather be of use to them. There's still a lot to be done, and there's still bad guys out there, and more coming. I can't risk you and mom by becoming a target either. So…" He looked up hopefully. "I was thinking of asking Captain Lennox to get me into the military for some training…so I can fight and stuff."

Ron frowned. He could see why Sam wanted to do that, as it seemed these Autobots and Decepticons lived a dangerous life. But he couldn't say he was comfortable letting his son simply become a soldier, no matter how specialized it might be. "I don't know, Sam. There are other things you could do without fighting."

"Yeah." Sam agreed. "There is. And to be honest, I can't do much against them by myself. But Will's guys packed a punch against them in the fight, and there's something…exciting and exhilarating in being able to do that, make a difference." He lowered his eyes to meet his father's. "I never thought I'd say this in my whole life, but I think that I want this… I want to fight with them however I can." He sighed. "Besides, if this Allspark thing is true, then I'm gonna draw attention and I'm going to have to know how to defend myself, so it'll be safer for me to be with them in that case too."

Ron shook his head slowly, before raising his eyes to stare at the watching robot. "I can see why you'd want to." He said honestly. "I can't say I agree… but boy, Sam…" He grinned glancing at his boy with pride. "I envy you. What I wouldn't give to join you and help them out."

"There is nothing saying you cannot provide assistance, Mister Witwicky." Bumblebee offered. "I am not certain where your skills lie, but we still have few allies to rely upon. The government is being very helpful, but we cannot continue to use their resources extensively."

Ron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm not sure what I could really do… but I do know cars. I sell them for a living, and I can find my way about an engine. Did I ever tell you I used to fix up old junkers when I was your age, Sam?"

"Really?" Sam blinked. "No you never told me that!" He grinned. "You'd get along great with Mikaela then."

"Your girlfriend?"

"Yeah." His smile widened. "She fixes cars too, as a hobby."

Ron's eyebrows lifted. "No kidding? A pretty girl like her?"

"You'd be surprised." Sam chuckled.

"Well, I tell you this beats any day at the office." Ron grinned. "Though your mother might take some more convincing… I don't think she'll be so quick to accept this…You know her, she prefers her conspiracy theories."

"I believe I can be of assistance in that area." Bumblebee unexpectedly suggested.

"Oh?" Sam looked up curiously. "How?"

The robot pushed a finger to the side of his head, and suddenly Judy Witwicky's voice echoed out of his speaker system. "Well, if you get out and get him a girl, I promise I'll welcome you into my home."

Sam blinked, then began to laugh hysterically. "Oh man… she had no idea who she was talking to."

"Evidently not." Bumblebee said with pride in his voice. "I held up my end of the bargain."

"She's going to LOVE you, Bee." Sam grinned, elbowing his dad in the ribs. "Isn't she, Dad."

"Oh, absolutely."

"Just… don't tell her it was you and your friends that wrecked the flower beds. Trust me, you don't want that kind of heat."

"Wait…that was YOU?!" Ron blinked. "My PATH!"

"Whoops…busted."


	18. Chapter 11: What Friends are For

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 11: What Friends are For**  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Sam was relieved that his mother had wisely decided to keep her distance for the time being. Ron had promised his son that he'd speak with her and try to accustom her to the idea of her son NOT being crazy, but he couldn't promise she'd deal with it easily. His best advice was to just keep his distance, give her time. Sam had no problem dealing with that.

In the meantime, he had another problem to work out.

Sam glanced around the school's front yard the next morning, his eyes peeled for the familiar blonde skateboarding friend that he'd steadfastly avoided as of late. It wasn't that he didn't care about Miles, quite the opposite actually. He cared about him enough that he didn't want to involve him in anything crazy like this. Poor Miles had enough to worry about, he didn't need the extra stress.

It didn't take long to spot him skating down the driveway, flipping the board up with his back foot as he caught it, humming with his iPod jammin' in his ear. Sam slid up beside him quickly. "Hey Miles."

The teen actually jumped, staring over at Sam with wide green eyes before he registered who had finally acknowledged his presence. "Sam!" He yanked the earphone out and grinned widely. "Hey... um..." his smile faltered as he realized he was supposed to be mad at him. "What's up?"

"Sorry I haven't been around much lately." Sam said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and grinning lopsidedly at his friend. "It's a long story...and I know I've been a heel..."

"Yeah, dude...you have." Miles said quietly, picking at a piece of grass stuck on the side of his face.

Sam sighed. In a way seeing Miles disappointed in him hurt worse than anything else right now. "I know... I'm sorry." He said again. "It's just...well I really don't have a good excuse." None that he could tell the teen anyway, he didn't have permission to give Miles clearance. He'd asked for it, and been rejected. Miles hadn't been involved, hence he wasn't to know.

Miles chewed on the gum he'd been mackin' on and just stared down at his untied shoelaces, awkward at the reunion.

"Look, I'll make it up to you. I'll give you a ride home after school, and I got a surprise." Sam offered smiling. He'd picked up a few 360 games to smooth things over, knowing Miles would love the gesture and forgive him.

"Yeah, ok." Miles said slowly as they jogged up the steps into the building. He grinned at Sam and slapped the teen on the shoulder fondly. "I missed ya man...really."

"I know, Miles." Sam said feeling suddenly as if he were back into his normal routine once more. "I know."

The rest of the day passed smoothly, that is until it was time for them to meet up again. Sam browsed past the lockers and was intending to head out the door when he heard something very unexpected...

"_Ohwhosthathelookshumanbutdifferent."_

Sam froze, blinking at the strange chittering that the other students in the hallway seemed not to have noticed above the dim of the voices filling it. But he'd heard it clearly because he recognized that language, but it was different...rapidly spoken and with a very odd accent, that he had trouble understanding it. Slowly, Sam turned around and scanned the hallway.

_Here? Of all places?_

But Sam didn't spot anything incriminating. No cars obviously would fit in this hallway, so that meant it had to be smaller. He didn't see any boom boxes or the like, but the amount of phones and iPods in the hall meant that it could have come from any of them...

No, that wasn't it. Sam's eyes lifted to the right, as a tingle of something shivered down his spine. A pair of green eyes were blinking curiously at him from the top of the soda machine.

_No way._

He quickly walked up to it and hissed in a low voice. "Stow those!" The eyes zipped back down quickly as Sam leaned against the soda machine trying to play it calm, despite the fact his head was spinning at fifty miles an hour. _A soda machine? How the heck...!?_ And green optics... that was new. He glanced over at the thing, and then on a whim put his hand flat against it's plastic siding.

To his complete surprise, a rapid stream of crazed thoughts slammed into his consciousness without his bidding. It was a jumble of images, words mixed with images and half formed ideas blending between English and Cybertronian. Sam almost disconnected as the stream of information made his eyes start to tear up as he fought to understand it all. It was chaotic, static, and...well...the best comparison he could offer was a very large caffeine buzz. Sam didn't have much experience connecting with others yet, so far it'd been Bee's orderly mind that had helped guide him, so in comparison this one nearly overwhelmed him, but he sent a calm quiet command. _Quiet!_ The crazed chatter paused for a second followed by an overwhelming sense of curiosity emitting from every fiber of the creatures' being. Genuine raw curiosity and wonder. Sam took a deep breath, half-opening his eyes which was weird in itself since he could still firmly feel the mech's presence, and his eyes seemed to be telling him it was just a soda machine. _Who are you?_ He thought clearly to it. Obviously it could connect with the Allspark, but it seemed so...unorganized.

_Iammedesignationunknownwokeupstartedfireingfireingranandhidhereissafeandquiet._

Sam squeezed his eyes shut again as the rush of words flooded into him. Oh dear... _You don't have a name? Answer just yes or no._

_No._

_Where are you from?_

_Madeinfactoryinchinashippedtotheunitedstatesaboardashipandinstalledin primarylocationbeforeawaking._

_Awaking?_

_Awakeincitywithboomboomsplodythingswasscaredandrantohidewherequiteandsafe._

Sam's head spun. What? What was he talking about? Awoke in the city? His heart leapt as suddenly he realized something. Oh dear... Oh crap. He gulped. _You just woke up a month ago?_

_Timechronometeraccurate._

So that meant he'd come online during the battle. Sam had known that 'others' had been created during that incident. He'd tripped with the Allspark in his arms and FELT the shockwave ripple out. Prime had mentioned they had managed to weed out most of the creations that seemed hell-bent on destruction, but it was likely some had slipped through the cracks.

That meant...

Since they were joined mentally, the moment he thought of the issue, it seemed the soda machine picked up on it.

_Creator._

The word was thought with reverence and awe, as Sam felt the tingle of power respond inside his chest. _Aw crap..._

"Sam!" Sam's hand jerked away from the soda machine with a snap, his head lifting as the dizzying separation sent the world around him reeling. Miles was jogging up towards him, eyes wide and face a bit pale, his eyes shifting from the soda machine to his friend with a suspiciously knowing expression. "Hey, I've been looking all over for you. What're you doing here?"

"Um." Sam said uncomfortably, shoving his hand quickly back in his pocket. "Nothing, just hanging out waiting for you. You ready to go?" He would have to deal with the soda machine later. He just hoped it didn't follow him home... He'd put Bee on it.

"Yeah, sure let's go." Miles was quick to say, grabbing Sam's shoulder and pulling him down the hall insistently. Both of them heard the strange chittering protest, and both of them pretended to ignore it for the other's sake.

Sam led Miles outside to the parked yellow Camaro that everyone was gawking at once again, and opened the door practically shoving Miles inside as he put his hands on Bee's roof. _Bee...we got a problem. Scan inside, find a soda machine, figure out why it's suddenly talking to me? Please?_ He didn't wait for a response, since Miles was already protesting loudly. "Holy crap, Sam! What happened to your car?! Oh my god...!"

He jogged around to the driver's side and slid in, grinning as he replied with the story he'd come up for Miles' sake. "Oh well you know how I said my car was busted up in the Mission City incident? Seems that the government was compensating everyone for the trouble...And well since my ol' Camaro apparently was a classic it was worth a lot, so..." He patted the steering wheel. "They pulled some strings."

"Some strings, dude!" Miles whistled impressed. "Can I have one? Say I lost my Lamborghini?"

Sam laughed. "I don't think they have any of those just sitting around."

"You never know, man, you never know."

It didn't take them long to make it to Miles' house, and as Sam hopped out of Bee's cab, his friend was already sprinting towards the house. "Hey, hang out downstairs for a bit while I clean up my room, k?"

"Sure." Sam said casually, glad for the chance to be able to speak with Bee while his friend straightened up. He leaned on the hood, pushing his hands flat on the top. _Find anything? _

_No, Sam. It appears that it is one of the new creations we missed. It is quite unorganized and young. Ratchet is en-route to deal with it._

_Good...cause the last thing we need is that thing launching sodas at passing students for target practice._

_A very apt observation, Sam._

He patted Bee's side mirror fondly as he jogged to join Miles. He stooped to pat Butch as he ran up the stairs, the pooch wagging his tail cheerily at sniffing a familiar scent of a human he knew. But the moment he slipped upstairs into Miles room, he blinked at how messy the place still was. And Miles was sitting there wiggling with the cords to his new X-box 360. "Done?"

Miles jumped visibly, whirling around to blink up at Sam with a flush to his pale cheeks as he nervously fiddled with the glass shelf of his entertainment center. "Um. Yeah. Just making sure it's plugged in." Sam's eyes flicked over to the surge protector where the X-box was clearly attached. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't point out the obvious. Miles was just as jumpy as he remembered. Sam sunk down into a huge beanbag chair and stretched out casually. The smell of stale Mountain Dews littered the room as Sam glanced around, noticing for the first time that Miles seemed to have taken a liking to the drink. That was odd... he hadn't really cared for it much before...

"So." Miles turned around sitting in front of the TV casually crossing his legs as he faced his friend.

"Oh right." Sam grabbed the bag that he'd stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket and held it out. "My way of saying sorry for being a heel."

Miles took the games and pulled them out. "SWEET!" He grinned thrilled at the choices. "Guitar Heroes and Oblivion! Sam, you rock. I forgive you for being a heel."

Sam grinned, and leaned forward. "So..?"

"Right." Miles whirled around and stuck in the game, starting the system up as he flipped the switch.

It didn't go on.

"Oh come on!" Miles protested out loud with a groan. "Don't start acting up now!"

Sam grinned a bit shaking his head. "Got it used, huh?"

"Yeah." Miles said miserably. "The stupid thing acts up like you wouldn't BELIEVE." He gave it a smack on the top, and then froze.

Sam heard it before he saw it, the telltale sign of transformation. His eyes widened in time to see the small X-box flip over in a twirl of flashing parts, chittering loudly as Miles spun around, and made a big show of knocking over his bag in a clearly false display of klutziness. He jumped up proclaiming loudly how accident prone he was, but it was all in vain, as the tiny X-box-bot skittered through Mile's legs and scampered right up to Sam, jumped onto his knee and stood there, tilting it's head curiously with a long chirpping trill of garbled Cybertronian.

For a moment neither of them spoke, then Miles slowly put his hands down flushing embarrassed, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Sam stared back at him, his face going red as at the same time, the same words escaped their lips simultaneously.

"Um... I can explain..."

They both stared at each other blankly for a moment as they both registered what was going on, then the room exploded in questions.

"Wait, you KNEW?"

"YOU knew?"

"How? When?"

"How'd YOU find out!?"

"Wait, how long have you KNOWN?" Sam burst out, almost sitting up, but the X-box-bot chittered at him, and he settled back down, staring at it curiously. It had to be another construct from the 'accident'. And it wasn't violent... AND it was living with Miles... which meant... Sam's eyes widened as the soda cans littered about his room drew his attention.

He slapped a hand to his face, and began to laugh.

Miles looked uncertain at first. "What?" He asked, sounding miserable.

"You…you knew about the soda machine too, didn't you?"

Miles' jaw dropped. "You too?! Holy cow, Sam… and here I thought I was going crazy!" He laughed nervously and flopped down on his bed, laying back with a loud expunge of air. "You have NO idea how weird this week has been!"

"I dunno, you might be surprised." He replied, immediately grinning at the irony. Sam chuckled and held a hand out to the X-box-bot, watching as it tentatively poked him with one of it's fingers, and chattered in an incomprehensible tongue. He could feel the slight tingle that meant a connection was possible… _This one too?_ He wondered if it had to do with the Allspark having created them. "Yeah? Well Miles… do I have stories for you…" Sam felt as if suddenly the whole world's weight had been lifted off his chest as he realized just what this meant. Miles was one of the 'in' crowd now… he could tell him everything! He smiled widely at the realization, and glanced over at his friend, watching as Miles laughed quietly before sitting back up. "So when did you find out?"

"I started seeing odd stuff at school with the Dewbot." Sam raised an eyebrow at the name. "Mountain Dew… robot… Dewbot." Miles grinned. "He freaked me out at first but kept giving me free sodas so it was cool… Then I found out the 360 I bought kept foolin' with me too. It kept playing mind games, making me swear I was nuts. Then after I figured out the Dewbot, I thought they might be the same thing, so I bothered it till it showed itself." He grinned. "We've gotten along swell since then… now when he's tired he just changes and I lose my game." He snorted. "But he's cool. I call him Exy."

"Exy?" Sam wrinkled his nose. "Short for what, X-_bot_?"

"Why not." Miles grinned. "So, Dude… how did you find out!?"

Sam flushed, and then gave Miles a guilty look. "Okay… long story… remember when I called you and told you Satan's Camaro was stalking me…?"

Catching Miles up on what had been happening was far easier than his parents. The fact Miles had already been exposed to weird alien robots was helpful, though when he'd told him that his car was one of them, the teen's eyes had gotten huge, and he'd practically dove out the window to stare at it. He'd listened without interruption as Sam told him how he and Mikaela had met the Autobots, their story, their war, the battle, and everything else crazy that had happened. Sam even casually included the fact that he'd been affected by the alien cube, which is why he'd been acting weird as of late, but he didn't give details. One step at a time.

When he was done, Miles just sat there, tossing paperclips and watching the X-bot zap them with a magnet, collecting them, melting it down into a small ball, repeating the process until they had a large fist sized marble. "So…" Miles said finally, meeting Sam's gaze evenly without any sign of disbelief. "…aliens… they really ARE aliens. But THESE guys aren't really aliens?"

"Yeah, I guess." Sam said scratching his head. "Since they were made here on Earth I guess they're not, but they WERE made with alien technology so…"

"And you did that."

"By accident." Sam grimaced. "I was holding the damn thing, tripped and fell."

"Sam." Miles face came closer, staring at his friend with a somber expression. "That's just so damn cool for words. Can you turn my radio into one next?"

Sam grinned and laughed out loud. "Even if I knew how to do it Miles, I don't think going around zapping hardware's a very good idea. Some of the ones turned real freaky during the battle… and I don't like the idea of getting shot, do you?"

"Not really." Miles admitted, tossing the metal ball and watching X-bot do a flipping tumble to catch it with an excited chitter. "But still, dude…" He grinned widely. "I wanna meet the rest of them."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem."


	19. Chapter 12: Waves of Change

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 12: Waves of Change**  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

_ Author's note: Due to some info provided I've made some corrections. Seems the only Air Force guy is Epps, so I've reworked some dialogue and fixed it so Fig's in the right branch Thanks for the info guys!   
_

* * *

"All right, that's the last of them." 

"Right, get some R&R then meet back in 30 to unload."

"Yes, sir."

Technical Sergeant Robert Epps sighed, his eyes scanning out across the vast waste of nothingness. It was a total mess behind him, he'd rather scan the open desert for something interesting to look at. The desert was pretty, in a way... Mountains in the distance, shimmering heat rippling off the sand distorting perspective, and endless blue sky.

Pretty shit... boring as hell.

Sure, it was nice for some quiet down time after all that crap, but Epps was also very nervous. First off, the idea of super freakin' tall alien robots wandering around was just whacked. Sure, he knew they were on THEIR side, but that didn't stop from making him want to cock his gun the moment one reared it's ugly face. Machines just weren't supposed to think on their own, man... it was just... wrong. And then there was the fact that not just one, but THREE of those bad mofos had gotten away.

He still had a bone to pick with that scorpion.

He knew it was out there somewhere... it had to be. Taking off it's tail wouldn't have killed it, but it sure had taken off one serious weapon. Still, the knowledge that those things regenerated freaked him out. Metal SHOULDN'T regenerate... it was unnatural, yet these things did. The tail had stopped moving and ceased regenerating after a while in the air, possibly because it had become separated and whatever energy powered it severed and bled out. But he knew that the bug would be different. Now, whether it could re-grow a whole new tail or not he had no idea, to him it seemed highly unlikely. They were machines, regenerating machines, but re-growing limbs was tough even for REAL lizards. But damn it all, Donnelly lost his life to that effin' thing. He OWED it.

"Yo, got a light, man?"

Epps sighed, and shot a glare out of the side of his eyes at the man who had stole up beside him, leaning heavily on a pair of issued crutches. "Fig, what the hell you doin' out here? Doc said to stay off your feet."

"I know man, but this stayin' still shit sucks, man. Me volverse loco."

"Yeah I know." Epps replied, pulling out a lighter from his front pocket and tossing it to Fig. "Didja hear back from your CO?"

"Yeah." Fig said, lighting a cigarette and tossing the lighter back to him.

"And?" Epps persisted, frowning at his squad member.

"And... they agreed to clear me for missions in 3 months." Fig replied sullenly.

"Man, what's so bad about that?" Epps demanded. "You act as if the whole world fell down around you."

Fig blew out an angry cloud of smoke and glared at him. "I don't like it. I LIVE for the ground teams. I hate this waitin' around shit."

Epps snorted. "Man, stop complainin'. After what we went through you're lucky to get a bit of a vacation."

"Ah, shaddup, man."

Epps smiled a bit, his nostrils curling at the smell of tobacco. He'd never liked the stuff. He was clean. "So you got clearance then? Where you going?"

"Dunno yet. Nellis probably, I think we're all supposed to stick together after what we went through. They want Lennox in charge of us 'special ops' guys who know all about this shit."

"Yeah, I got the same thing. I'll be joining you runnin' around shootin stuff soon enough..." He got a dirty look. "AFTER your Physical Therapy, dumbass. I thought they said you'd be at a hundred percent again with some work."

"Yeah, but this makes you re-evaluate crap, man." Fig said suddenly somber. "I like ground combat... I know where I stand, ya know? But this shit..." He waved out at the shimmering Qatar desert. "I can't say adios to it soon enough."

"I hear ya." Epps agreed sighing. He was used to deserts, he was stationed out of Edwards for crying out loud, freakin' hot... but not THIS hot. This was the kind of hot you couldn't shake, even if you sat in front of a blasting A/C unit. No, he wouldn't be unhappy to say farewell to this place again for the last time.

The two of them had been included in the clean-up crew, mainly at their CO's direct request, given their exposure to the NBE's. They knew more than the rest of the guys at least. Captain Lennox had been requested to remain on duty at Nellis, where Epps would soon be joining him. It seemed that Lennox's team was now a permanent resident of Nevada, thanks to their new 'friends'. Epps didn't mind, Mission City wasn't that bad of a place...city never slept anyway. But for the time being, he and Fig were stuck back overseas to watch over the salvaging of Soccent Base.

He hated being back here.

The place was a complete wreck. There was nothing left. That freakin' helicopter had seen to that. Cleaning up the bodies was hard, it always was. Luckily most of that had been taken care of first and foremost, before they had arrived. Now, all that was left was to analyze the damage and see what they could learn. There wasn't much to BE found. That made it easy for clean-up at least. Burnt out shells of jets lay scattered about the cracked and liquefied cement tarmac. The heat from the explosions had been so intense it had literally boiled and melted cement. That itself was scary. Unfortunately it also meant there was very little evidence left for the two of them to look over. They hadn't done much, if any, damage to Blackout. Their bullets had just bounced harmlessly off it's armor. It had been built to withstand more than simple metal projectiles, that much they'd' found out quick.

They hadn't found a damn thing here. Not even so much as a ripple of sand where that scorpion thing had dove into the ground.

So, they'd helped the clean-up a bit, but Fig was still in no condition to do much work, so he'd assisted with paperwork instead, while Epps sweated it out junking the leftover metal with the other airmen. It was rough brutal work, but it had to be done. They'd be heading back tomorrow anyway. The rest of the airmen could take care of the remaining clean-up, they were just there in case anything 'interesting' showed up. And so far, they'd come up empty.

"You're heading back to Edwards?"

"Nah, Nellis." Epps said, staring out at the desert. "Gotta pick out some new squad members too, if you're not coming."

"I'm comin'." Fig said with a snort. "I'll just be drinkin' tequila while you're bustin' your ass carrying cargo off the plane." He grinned.

"Yeah, all talk no action."

Epps frowned and leaned forward as something drew his attention, his eyes narrowing as he spotted something unusual. It was hard to see in the rippling heat waves, but it wasn't the usual desert scrub, and he was extremely keen-sighted. One had to be in his line of work. And that black smudge on the horizon spoke to him like a splash of ink on a white paper. "Fig?"

"Eh?"

"You see that?"

"See what?"

"Just a sec." Epps turned and jogged over to the command post and snagged a pair of powered binnoculars from the shelf, then ran back. He toggled the scanner on, and peered towards the smudge on the horizon using the enhanced zoom. It didn't tell him much at first, just enhanced the heat distortion. It was black though, that much he knew. And it was too big to be some local wildlife, not that there was much here to begin with. It could be a ground vehicle, but out here in the middle of nowhere it was unlikely. It was too low to be a jet, unless they were purposely flying that close to the ground. And the only reason they'd be doing that is to try and get below radar, masking heat signatures with the natural ground thermodynamics. Which would then mean it had to be a jet _capable_ of slipping under a radar…

Epps frowned. "I don't like this." He lowered the binnoculars and felt for his radio. "Ops, got a reading on a bogey at ten' o'clock?"

There was a pause before the radio crackled. _"Negative. See something out there?"_

"Maybe." He replied squinting into the viewer again. "Got any airborne?"

_"Affermative. Want me to check for clearance?"_

Epps frowned. Should he pursue this? If it turned out to be nothing the CO would tear into him, but then again… "Yeah. Check up on it. Could be a hostile flying close to the deck."

_"Affirmative."_

"What you thinkin'?" Fig asked once Epps had lowered the radio while the opps officer got the required clearance to divert airborne units.

"I don't know." Epps said darkly. "But if it's that damn scorpion, I wanna know."

Fig scowled himself, burying the cigarette in the nearby crate. "If it's that scorpion thing, we're screwed."

"Yeah."

They waited until the radio crackled again lightly, and Epps lifted it back up. _"Clearance granted, two Raptors en-route."_

"Roger."

The two looked up at the sky, searching for the jets, but didn't see them nearby. They must be doing patrols. Epps lifted the specs again and stared. The black smudge was closer, and a little more distinct. Now that he could see it, he knew for certain it was too big to be a truck or supply vehicle, and it was too low to the ground, too thin. It seemed to be soaring around in a set pattern, not coming too close to the base, out of direct communications range, and too far away for anyone not actually looking for something.

Then, as he watched, the black speck suddenly changed it's tactics on a turn, the minute he spotted two shining silver forms streaking closer in his scope. The black speck abruptly shifted position, away from the ground and going straight up into the sky, the twin silver dots following it at a slower distance, unfortunately losing it as it vanished into the sky, retreating beyond his scope's range. He lowered the binnoculars and frowned, feeling an uneasy tug at his gut.

The radio crackled._"Target visual. Radar still didn't pick him up, but Raptors report confirmed sighting. Target was B-2 Bomber."_

"What?!" Epps spat, surprised. "A stealth?" He exchanged an incredulous glance with Fig. What the hell was a Stealth doing out here? They didn't HAVE any deployed on this side, as far as he knew. And sure as hell the hostiles in the area didn't have one…

Unless…

That cold feeling clenched his stomach again. Christ, he hoped that wasn't what he thought it was. "Fig…?"

"Yeah?"

"I know the Captain said more of these mofos were out there."

"Si."

"I think we just saw another one."

"….mierda."

* * *

No one could confirm the sighting, unfortunately. There was no record of any B-2 doing missions out here, and Epps officially had higher clearance than he should. He'd checked the files and records, and double checked all the units to see where they were currently positioned. All were accounted for. That meant only one thing, to his mind, so he put in a call. 

"Yo, Captain."

_"Epps. What's up?"_

"Got some bad news."

_"Great, I could use some excitement."_ Will sounded quite sarcastic, which made Epps grin a bit.

"What, not enough excitement working with Project Badass?" Epps enjoyed teasing his superior, and since they were friends outside of being officers, he could get away with it.

_"Enough cracks about my wife, Epps. What's the news?"_

Epps chuckled cracking a wide grin, which sobered as he began to relay the information. "Think we saw one of our friends down here."

_"Red or blue?"_

"Red, my guess."

_"New?"_

"Yeah, think so. Unless one of em got a re-fit, course anything's possible. Runnin' silent to boot."

A pause. _"I'll check on it, see what I can find out. Any idea where it went?"_

"Up. Lost it past that."

_"All right… I'll get back to you. Keep an eye out for anything else. See any sign of our 'other' friend down there?"_

"Nope…and if I ever do…"

_"Just save a piece for me."_

"Can't promise that, sir."

_"Right. Well I got some new friends to introduce you to once you're back state-side."_

Epps winced. Oh boy. "Friendly?"

_"Seems so… a bit too friendly in some cases."_

Lovely.

_"One other thing. Seems you won't be coming home right away. Got another ping on our scope, civvie-based this time."_

"Oh?"

_"I'll send the details on a secure link. Could be nothing, but you know the higher-ups. They're being extra careful lately. Since you're nearer that part of the world, they'll be running you by on your way home."_

"Where at?"

_"Dress warm, Epps."_

"Aw shit."

* * *

_Author's Note: Some Geographical notes: Given relative locations to things, Mission City despite being shot mostly in L.A. is 'technically' Las Vegas, or is where Las Vegas is located, in considering it's proximity to the Hoover Dam. Therefore, Nellis is the base nearby Tranquility, which is probably somewhere around Henderson. Confused yet? Google the area and see for yourself._

_Also, yes I know that in the novelization and other media Fig dies. However, I liked his character too much to kill him off, and since the movie proper doesn't show him dying, he's back on his feet for my fic._


	20. Interlude Eight: Starscream

**How it Is**  
**Interlude 8: Starscream**  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Out of all the planets in this backwards little solar system, he liked this one the most. It had attracted him when he'd first landed upon it with Blackout, Barricade, their respective attached drones, Devastator, or part of him anyway, and Bonecrusher. It was simple, barren, rocky and red. He liked the color red, he found it bold and commanding, a color of authority and of power. He had liked it so much that he had reformatted his color schemes a little to reflect this nice color. A little red on the chassis and wings, some black highlights, a splash of blue, keep the rest silver since it was flashy… He'd redesigned a few details too, now that he wasn't under Megatron's shadows. Yes, not a bad alteration indeed. Red was a powerful color. He was in charge now, he had to show the authority he possessed. And he was commander of an entire planet made of this bold attitude. 

Yeah, ok so there wasn't any other sentient being ON the fraggin' thing... but that was a minor detail for the time being, and would change soon enough. He had a plan, he merely lacked the participation required to implement it. Luckily, within a few cycles that would be fixed. Already one loyal soldier had arrived and was currently doing reconnaissance under his orders on the Blue planet. Ugh, such a boring color. Blue. It even sounded dull. Nothing like RED. Blue reminded him of the pathetic Autobot's optics, and ignited his desire to launch his missiles at the fraggin' morons.

But then, he DID owe them a debt. They had, after all, taken out Megatron for him. Sure, he'd helped... he'd lobbed more than one missile at the falling leader along with other F-22 Raptors. The idiot had never known, and he'd soared away before the squishies could identify and pursue him. With Megatron out of the way, Earth was his for the taking. He merely needed backup first.

Starscream slammed a foot down, taking satisfaction in watching a Martian rock turn into cinders, ash and dust puffing up around his silver leg, drifting lazily in the dusky atmosphere, the low rumble of sound the only interruption in the quiet of the empty planet. Being a ruler without an army sucked. He lifted his head skyward, optics scanning the starry night sky as the planet's rotation showed him an uninterrupted view of the vastness of space out there. Somewhere out there were a handful of survivors, what was left from his proud wing-fleet. Once they had been great, flying high above Cybertron, the pride of the fleet... Then the war...

Now, Starscream had to admit he'd not been against Megatron's plan. When their High Lord Protector had formed their battalion before he took office, he had spread the idea amongst those proven most loyal to him, and Starscream had been one of his best, appointed as his left hand. A scientist's life had been interesting, but the promise of glory, strength and power had been quick to draw him in. He was ambitious, loved power, and loved showing off. He also considered himself a genius. Those were his best qualities. So at the chance to lead the Armada to victory, the mech had jumped eagerly to the task and spearheaded the entire campaign under Megatron's orders. At first it had been exhilarating, fun seeing the Autobots squirm and run as they seized control of the planet for themselves. But then...things began to fall apart. It was Megatron's foolhardy actions that led them to this, that had destroyed the very planet they had hoped to seize. Had their illustrious leader been satisfied with Cybertron alone, they would have never been driven to this. They would have had a whole world under their fist... but no, the High Lord Protector had decided he wanted more power...he wanted the Allspark.

Starscream had never found why Megatron desired the Allspark. Certainly, he himself was interested, curious even in it's regenerative power it's limitless energy, but it was so heavily protected by formidable foes, so what did fighting to the death over it prove? They HAD the planet, they HAD what they wanted. He'd spoken up about this, and gotten snapped at for his trouble, then told to go and find it no matter the end result. Starscream didn't want to do it, but he knew better than to say no. Megatron commanded every Decepticon's respect, and rebelling when that respect held such high regard was not a good idea. So he'd taken his Seekers and set out following Megatron's order, what had turned out to be his last order. They didn't hear what had happened until a few orns later, that he'd found where the Autobots had hidden it, pursued it and ended up who knows where in the galaxy. Secretly, it had pleased Starscream greatly to know his 'leader' was probably lost to the depths of space, but he made sure never to say that out loud. Instead, he sent his squad out in pairs to search specific sectors of the universe and report back to him. He'd set out with his wingmen and they had run afoul of some trouble not long afterwards, and become separated. This left Starscream alone and in a foul temper. Thankfully he'd finally caught wind of the Allsparks' energy and tailed it to this backwater little solar system. After a lengthy broadcast, a few others had caught up with him, and they had infiltrated the biologically inhabited planet and tracked down their target.

Unfortunately in so doing, he'd found his leader in the process. There would have been nothing more rewarding to have seen the entire structure housing Megatron collapse into rubble, burying the fool forever. However Starscream also knew that wouldn't do away with the Lord High Protector any more than firing a few missiles at him would. He was just too powerful. And the Allspark was still there. So, reluctantly, he had freed Megatron...

And gotten snapped at again.

_Frag it._

But for the first time in the Seeker's life, things were looking up. Sure, Cybertron was in ruins, but THIS planet...this was promising. They could set up a base here and then sack the human's planet for resources, and the Autobots wouldn't be able to stop them. They had no fliers in their midst yet, and from this planet Starscream could easily keep track of any arriving mechs, as soon as he had his men with him.

He had no idea where Barricade was. When he'd left orbit, he'd pinged his comm., and gotten no reply. He'd continued to try, but was met with static. Starscream knew he hadn't seen the mech in the final battle, which meant either he'd been taken care of and was dead, or he'd gone rogue. Either way, he was of no use to him. Scorponok was wounded and replied to his query, demanding instructions and a new symbiotic connection. Starscream cringed at the idea of sharing his energon with THAT drone, or any for that matter, and told him to sit tight, wait it out.

Then, at long last, he'd gotten a signal. It was distant, but strong, and he recognized it as one of the more loyal Decepticons. One he could depend on. He'd also given him information that he was being pursued by three others at close range and had not been able to lose them. Starscream grimaced but informed the infiltrator to land on earth, assume a form, pick up Scorponok and return to position while he backed up his approach. He launched into the skies, donned his fighter mode and hid out behind the planet's moon, then ambushed the three as his fellow came streaking into orbit. He'd succeeded in distracting them enough for his fellow to jam their transmissions, and they had gone plummeting towards the surface blindly unable to locate Prime's signal. He'd retreated and waited, until he finally received word that his comrade had escaped and was en-route to his destination. He'd done a few rounds to monitor the communications network, flying low to do some reconnaissance himself. He made careful not to reveal himself to the fleshlings, however he did make one sloppy mistake as he skirted the air base outside the city where the last battle had happened. He had been flying low, and noticed two streaks of light on his radar. Naturally, he flew to intercept, hoping that it was his two lost wing mates.

He hadn't been prepared to be ambushed.

It was a stupid mistake, and one that he swore never to repeat. As he had been soaring over the double impact craters, he'd scanned the interiors to find them empty of the usual entry pods. So he'd swung lower, and that's when they struck.

He had to admit, it was quite a move. One on each side of him gripping his wings sent his balance off-center, spiraling towards the ground at rapid speed. He'd gunned his engines with a foul curse uttering from his vocal processors, twisting to the side as he felt their weights shift and let go before he'd plunged left-wing first into a nearby rock outcropping. There was a sharp impact that sent pain ripping up his outer casing, but he knew immediately it wasn't damaging enough to cause him much inconvenience… however those two might be more of a problem, so he allowed a little energon to mix with his fuel cells, and triggered a beautiful explosion as he supposedly 'hit' the ground. The resulting explosion served as a distraction to secure his escape back into orbit .

_Fraggin' Autobots._

So now he was forced to wait for his fellow to return. Fortunately he didn't have to wait long.

As his path took him across the rocky ridge above a crater, he spotted something dark out of the corner of his optics that made the stars distort. _Ah hah, there he is_. Starscream grinned as he paused, his optics scanning in on the distortion as he watched it move slowly, obviously gliding in. He also knew that if the mech had been attempting to sneak up on him, he would have done so. He was purposely coming in so Starscream could see him. And the Decepticon let out a low warble showing how impressed he was when he spotted what the specialist had chosen. He had to admit, the moment he saw it he thought it strange in appearance. It was jet black, very wide, and thin. But given his specialty, Starscream knew that this jet's design gave him a distinct edge in being undetected, deploying his weapons and escaping battle entirely. A quick reference in his database of choice vehicles he had accessed pulled up the choice, one he'd examined himself but found too...silly looking.

B-2 Stealth Bomber.

The jet soared in low, and as it approached it's engines flared once before it flipped upwards, it's body shifting and twisting to form a thin and rather tall robot without much bulk, covered in dark black plating with similarly dark steel parts. Glowing red optics lit a lowered visor, black face-mask concealing the lower half of his head, the wing platings forming a jagged ridge behind him aimed downwards. The form fit him well, and was just as intimidating as he was.

_"Soundwave."_ Starscream greeted, his Cybertronian words reedy and harsh, but not able to disguise his glee. _"You recovered Scorponok?"_

_"Negative."_ Came the monotone response, dark and grating but emotionless, the pulses unique among all the others. _"Target location invalid. Subject unable to be located. Debris located, identity confirmed. Assumption: destruction of target."_

Starscream growled. Destroyed? Scorponok? True, he hadn't replied to any recent hails, but the bug was smarter than that. Somehow Starscream had a feeling Scorponok was playing dead. _"Very well."_ He grumbled. _"We shall proceed without him._" he folded his arms. _"What else did you learn?"_

_"Three Autobots landed. Identities confirmed, designations: Wheeljack, Cliffjumper, Hound. Autobots convened with ground party, identities: Bumblebee, Barricade, and human creatures."_

Starscream choked._"What!?!!"_ Soundwave simply stared at him unblinkingly, optics barely visible behind his lowered visor, not reacting to his outburst._"That...that slaggin' traitor!"_ Starscream hissed in a venomous voice. _"I knew there was a reason he'd stopped responding, but to turn on us?!" _He frowned deeply. This was unexpected, but not all together surprising. However, he wasn't about to let Soundwave know this. He could only hope the Communications Officer wasn't actively scanning his brainwaves at the moment to read his thoughts. Still, it did concern him. Whether Barricade was doing this intentionally or not was not the issue, the issues was if the Autobots managed to extract information, comm. frequencies, encrypted data... He would have to ask Soundwave to create new frequencies and new codes for them if they were to remain free of observation. Still... he could use this to his advantage as well, if he could actually get the fragger to talk to him. He still could be of some use, like it or not. Starscream smiled darkly. _"Very well."_ He said at last. _"We are to remain here until the envoy arrives."_

_"Envoy? Query: Designations?"_

_"Thundercracker and Skywarp."_ Starscream grinned. His wingmen. He would be glad to see them again. Together the four of them would be nigh unbeatable... especially... His optics sharpened on the black Decepticon. _"Did you bring your partners?"_

_"Affirmative."_ Soundwave said tonelessly, and in one swift move his rear wing panels lifted, and there was a flash of movement from either side followed by two dull thumps as two figures moved swiftly from their hidden spot underneath the mech's flat wings.

Starscream instantly was on his guard, optics immediately flipping into scan mode and sweeping the red rock ground warily. The first form remained near it's master, uninterested. The second however... He saw the flash of silver amidst the red dust before he spotted the second crouched form, narrow red eyes gleaming hungrily out at him from the cloud, body low to the ground tensed to attack.

Out of all the drones on Cybertron, there were two Starscream respected. The first was Scorponok. The drone had been built for one purpose: assassination. It's ability to burrow through practically any surface was unique and practically unheard of. He wasn't sure who had crafted the drone, but the weapons and tools given had been enough to terrify any Decepticon who got too close. Blackout had been the only one with nuts enough to become partnered with it, and now the drone required a new host. That was the problem with drones, they couldn't survive long-term on their own. They required a shared energon source. They had been manufactured this way on purpose so they wouldn't become too powerful and turn on their masters. It hadn't stopped Scorponok though. There were stories going about that the drone had not only advanced beyond it's original programming, but was capable of killing it's symbiotic masters. It was no wonder few wanted to 'share' their life with him.

The other drone that Starscream respected was Ravage.

Ravage, like Scorponok, was designed differently to the standard mech form. But unlike Scorponok who was focused on espionage and stealth, Ravage was built for speed and strength. Doubly sharp pure metal alloy energon charged claws were poised between each limb, the ability to be deployed could be a deadly mistake if a mech didn't watch his back. Those claws could tear right through standard shielding like it was no more than tinfoil. Likewise, the way the drone was built made it perfect for ramming into things, slamming mechs to the ground before they could adjust their internal dampeners for balance, and then that's when they usually died. The claws weren't the drone's only weapons, but most didn't get the chance to learn what the rest were, since they typically were offline before they hit the ground.

Yes, Starscream respected Ravage. Only a fool wouldn't.

_"Ravage. Return."_ The order was firm and commanding, and without hesitation the drone sprinted back to it's master on four limbs, a streak of silver the only thing registering on Starscream's optics as the drone whipped back around to sit adjacent from his partner.

Starscream scanned the two smaller figures. Neither had taken alternate forms yet, and were still in their basic protoform programming. Ravage and Rumble, two of Soundwave's symbiotic partners. He was four short. He knew the story of one, but that still left the other three. _"Where are the others?"_

_"Terminated."_ Soundwave replied, the usual calm and collected tone for the moment turning darker and harsher.

Starscream mentally winced. Few Decepticons truly understand the symbiotic connection Soundwave shared with his creations. Everyone KNEW he had created them, though they were smart enough not to ask the details. There were theories that Soundwave had tortured and drugged some Femmes, or even somehow managed to wrest control of the Matrix itself during a skirmish with Prime... Whatever the story, Starscream himself had seen how brutally destructive the team moved as a whole. They were a fleet to themselves, an entire squadron alone. He had the misfortune of seeing two early models fall during the war...

He never had forgotten Soundwaves' relentless slaughter of those responsible.

Of those left, Rumble and Ravage had been the two most useful to the mech, and likewise the two most able to defend themselves. Frenzy was another case entirely... He hadn't exactly been thrilled to be sent away with Barricade, and had protested with a foul stream of curses and oaths. Soundwave however had continued with the order per Starscream's request, through Megatron's approval. Starscream wasn't certain if the bond extended once the symbiot joined with another, and wasn't sure he wanted to be the one to tell the Communications Officer that Frenzy was dead.

That could wait.

His optics studied the second small figure. Rumble was built like Frenzy, only his design was focused on stability rather than agility. His plating was thicker, he moved without the rapid buzz that often had mechs wondering what Frenzy was drinking. Rumble was not deadly as Ravage was, but he completed the team as a whole, his ability to manipulate his environment of the physical rather than the metaphysical like his twin Frenzy gave him a unique place among the symbiots. Where Frenzy could hack into computer networks, plant viruses and analyze complex signals and encryption in the flicker of an optic, Rumble could do the same with his natural environment. Geothermic sources, weaknesses in structural integrity, wind currents and temperature variants all combined to form the perfect manipulation to his processors.

There was a reason Soundwave had been Megatron's right hand man, and Starscream had been his left. While Soundwave alone couldn't pack a killing punch, he could disable and let his minions do the dirty work for him, or work in tandem with others to disable their enemies in brutal fashion then obliterate them with guns blazing.

Yes, he was going to do quite well here. Starscream had of course transferred all data on Megatron's demise in one sweet little package that he had pre-edited. He couldn't have the communications officer knowing he'd helped take the big guy down now could he? Of course, if Soundwave ever got a hint from somewhere else he could rip the information right from Starscream's head, however since no one else knew of his 'help', he felt relatively safe.

_"Query. Plan of action in place?"_ Soundwave finally transmitted, once Starscream had finished observing the symbiots' presence.

_"Yes."_ Starscream smiled coolly. _"I have a plan, and a brilliant one at that. Using our guile and skill, the Autobots will never even know what hit them until it is too late. They cannot reach us here, their human pets do not possess technology equivalent to our own in order to travel this distance with any considerable bulk."_ He smirked.

Starscream smiled coldly. Oh yes... the fools were never going to know what hit them.

And the Autobots... well if they survived, they were finally just going to have to admit there was no greater leader than High Lord Starscream.

* * *

"_Frag."_

"_What?"_

"_Think it's too late to turn back and pretend we're not here?"_

"_Why?"_

"_You're not gonna like it."_

"_Enlighten me. I'm bored."_

"_Starscream."_

"_What about him?"_

"_He's in charge."_

Pause. _"What happened? I thought they FOUND Megatron."_

"_They did. Megatron is dead, apparently."_

"_Frag."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Frag."_

"_You said that."_

"_You know, I heard Pluto is a nice not-planet this time of year."_

"_No kidding."_

"_**You two! Get your afts in gear and move it!"**_

"_Slag it… we're inside his scanner range."_

"_Well… I could use the action I guess."_

"_Yeah… if he gets too weird we can always blast him."_

"_I get dibs on the first shot."_

"_You wish."_

* * *

_Author's note: I tend to picture Starscream more in a G-1 design for his mech form rather than his movie design. Pick whichever you like. If anyone wants images on what everyone looks like, they're on my profile. _


	21. Interlude Nine: Reginald Simmons

**How it Is**  
**Interlude Nine: Reginald Simmons **  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"Hey Reg."

"Duane."

"Donut?"

"No."

"So how's the civvie sector?"

"Bite me."

The man sitting across the table laughed once, biting into his donut as he leaned back, sipping a cup of coffee casually as he regarded the man across the table from him.

Life hadn't treated Reginald Simmons well, lately. The guy had been furious when the government had shut down the one operation that his family had been dedicated to for two generations now.

Sector 7 was dead. And Simmons had no idea what to do with his life.

He looked like crap, too. His hair was longer and unkempt which gave him a wild look since it was the dark curly type. He was unshaven with a week's worth of stubble he hadn't bothered to shave off, his bright Hawaiian shirt wrinkled and dull colored. Dark bags hung under his eyes, along with bloodshot eyes revealing that he seemed to have problems sleeping lately.

Duane shook his head. It was sad. Simmons had once commanded the respect of everyone in Sector 7. He was the top, the best of the best, good at what he did, trained expertly, and relentless. It hurt to see him like this. "Simmons, you need a job." Duane said simply.

Reginald Simmons glared up at him with a venomous look. "You think?" he asked dully. "I've looked, Connors."

"Private detective agencies?"

"Yes."

"CSI?"

"Yes."

"CIA? FBI?"

"Yes." Simmons' lips parted in a thin smile. "Believe me, Connors, I've asked them all. It seems that my secret government clearance makes me too qualified, and too high of a security risk."

"Damn." Pause. "Tried local law enforcement?"

Simmons shot him a look that would have normally drove the man into silence before, but he took it in stride without blinking, a testament to just how far Simmons had fallen. "The day I join the cops is the day I lose my dignity."

"I'm just saying." Duane said shrugging. "You can't sit moping about in your apartment the rest of your life, even on the good stipend they gave you for termination."

"It'll work."

Duane sighed, and genuinely felt sorry for Reg. But, one couldn't say he hadn't tried. He stood up shaking his head, and smacked some bills down on the table. "Well.. good luck then. I'm glad to see you're doing so well for yourself." He slapped Simmons on the shoulder lightly before striding out the door without another word.

Simmons turned his eyes back down to the cup of coffee on the table, and stared at it blankly. Duane had been the third this week. His men were concerned for him. Somewhere inside, he felt a bit lightened by that, but their concern didn't help his situation any.

Simmons was lost without his job.

Sector 7 had been his life, his world. He had lived and breathed it since he'd been a kid. His father had raised him with all the hopes and dreams of one day carrying on his super secret work, and Reg had taken to it like a fish to water. If he hadn't been trained in all the military self-defense his dad had to offer, he would have certainly fallen into the 'geek' category. Instead, he'd taken over his father's work and risen to Sector 7 field commander within years of finishing his Special Ops training. He'd not been out of action since he'd been 17, and not being in control of his job, his life, and his men... it was incredibly unnerving.

And it sucked.

Simmons sipped his cold cup of coffee, making a face as it's bland taste hit his palette. Duane was right, he did need some kind of motivation. His life was falling apart without it. The government had given all of Sector 7 significant pay boons for termination, and so Simmons had taken the chance to return home to Brooklyn for some rest and relaxation, a vacation. He hadn't had a vacation in years. Granted, the moment he'd walked down through Central Park he'd found himself bored and lacking direction. What was he supposed to do with his life? What he'd told Duane was right, he HAD submitted resume after resume to private and government sectors. The government claimed that they had no need for special cover ops, and the CIA and FBI weren't interested given his track record. He apparently had 'too liberal' of experience for their strict regiment. Private sector jobs had turned him down flat too, their excuse being he was overqualified.

Overqualified. How the hell was he supposed to compete with THAT?

He sighed, stood up and tossed a few more bills on the table before he walked outside, rubbing his stubbled face and sliding sunglasses on as he stepped out into the New York sunshine. A job would come along, he just had to keep looking. If the Government was shutting the door on him, he'd just have to look into the private sector, and if that didn't work then he could always start up a business of his own, maybe something a little less life-risking… like selling flowers.

And why was some guy in a black car casing him?

Simmons had been on his share of stake-outs and knew what to look for, how to do it right, and how to do it wrong. And he KNEW when he was being cased.

This guy either wasn't very good at it, or didn't care if he noticed he was being watched.

Simmons frowned, staring at the black car. It was parked a few spaces back behind a large SUV, so he couldn't make the model, but the man inside was a dead give-away. He looked like the typical military or government lackeys they sent out to stare people down.

And he'd been tailing him for three days now.

Interesting.

Simmons knew better than to approach him. If the guy wanted to think he didn't know what was going on, fine. But Simmons had his own eyes peeled out to see what the man did. So far, he'd just followed him around town, staked out his apartment, and not done much else. Simmons was beginning to lose patience.

HE was supposed to be the one casing people, not the other way around.

He turned and strode down the street, hands in his pockets, glad he'd walked. For once that meant that the guy would have to be careful while tailing him, and that gave Simmons more of a chance to watch him. He wondered which agency he was working for, CIA? FBI? Maybe they had turned him down merely as a method to keep an eye on him to see how he reacted to situations like this… Maybe.

But then again, they didn't need to keep watching him for three days, the same guy all day and all night, Simmons had checked. The guy was a machine, seriously. He never slept.

Simmons turned the corner, then stopped at the building's edge, leaning against the corner. He was sick of this shit, he was going to confront him. Once he turned the corner intent on following him, he'd just step out and smile cockily at the newbie.

He waited….

And waited…

The car hadn't shown up. Curious, he peered around the edge of the building, only to see no black car in sight.

Huh… Interesting.

He made his way back to his apartment, thinking. Could he be just paranoid, imagining something that wasn't there? No, he thought. He had been in the government sector his entire life, he knew the patterns, knew the rhythms that each agency used. He had analyzed their tactics, and implemented them into his own men's methods. No, he definitely was being cased.

Only… He hadn't expected to find the black car parked in front of his apartment, with the man leaning casually against the side, arms folded over his chest, waiting for him.

Simmons raised an eyebrow. The man was familiar, in a haunting kind of way but he couldn't exactly place it. He reminded him a lot of Tom Banacheck, actually. Large military issue mirrored sunglasses, bushy mustache, a plain black shirt and matching pants, black combat boots, and a crew cut hairstyle. Definitely military, or a cop at minimum.

Simmons walked up to him, stopping once he was in front, studying the man calmly. "You know." He said finally, a hint of a smile on his unshaven face. "You haven't exactly been doing a good job following me. You act like a rookie. I've been watching you for three days now."

"Really?" The voice was deep, monotone, and rather bored as the man spoke. "How sloppy of me, and here I thought I had made it obvious I was following you for an entire week."

Simmons blinked. A week? Ok, now he was impressed. "So you were intentionally letting me know you were here?" He got no answer, just a blank stare of indifference from the man. "All right, fine I can deal with that." He shrugged. "What do you want?"

The man said nothing for a moment, head expressionless and unmoving as the glasses hid any hint that he was studying him. "Let me get one thing straight, Simmons." He said finally, an edge of irritation in the voice. "I don't like you."

"Good." Simmons said simply. "Feeling's mutual."

The man still didn't show any emotion, but continued with the same irritated tone. "Look in the glove box."

Simmons raised an eyebrow, but opened the car's door and peered inside, resisting the urge to let out a low whistle. He suddenly appreciated this car, the interior was very sleek and sporty. He popped open the glove box and found only one thing in there, a manila envelope filled with some thick papers by the feel of it. He pulled it out, shutting the door and held it up. "What's this?"

"A job."

That caught Simmons' interest. A job? Finally. He looked suspiciously at the envelope, but opened it up, pulling out the first piece of paper and scanning it. He was silent a moment before both eyebrows lifted. "You've got to be kidding me." He shot a glare at the silent man, who did nothing but watch him. He scanned the letter more carefully.

_To: Reginald Simmons_

_From: The desk of Secretary of Defense John Keller_

_Due to your outstanding service record in providing assistance to your country for many years, it is my privilege to have the opportunity to offer you an independent job that requires your particular skills. The details are provided in the following documents. Your assignment, if you accept the commission, will be to co-ordinate with your partner relating to your specific field of expertise. You are free to reject the proposal, but if you accept the position you will be compensated at the following rate provided in the attached documents._

_Sincerely, _

_John Keller_

_P.S. You better thank me for pulling strings for your ass, Simmons._

Simmons lifted his gaze once more to stare at the man watching him. "So you're to be my partner? What are you, some kind of specialist?" he frowned, wondering just what kind of job this was. His expertise was something that was highly classified, and he knew all the faces of those who had clearance, and those who didn't… at least he had before he'd lost his damn job when Sector 7 had been disbanded.

The man didn't smile, but continued to regard him solemnly. "Something like that." He said in a deep voice that sounded suspiciously like a growl.

Simmons glanced back down at the attached papers and began to flip through them, almost choking as he pulled up the first image, the second, a third… and a few blurry additions. These pictures were highly classified… and this man had them in his possession in a non-sealed envelope. Which could only mean one thing.

Simmons eyes slowly shifted back to the car.

He got a cold chill down his spine. That car looked disturbingly familiar… he hadn't realized it before, but suddenly things began to click. He glanced back up to the man watching him, eyes flashing once to the car then back up. "So that's it." He said in a low careful voice. "Weren't you…one of the BAD guys?"

The man snorted, and suddenly right there in front of his eyes, in broad daylight he simply vanished into thin air, leaving Simmons staring at empty space before he glanced back down the car, as it's door opened wide like an inviting maw.

"Get in." Barricade growled.

* * *

_Two weeks earlier…_

"You had no RIGHT!" Barricade snapped, bristling at every pointed edge that his intimidating body had.

To his credit, Optimus Prime remained calm and collected, facing the angry ex-'con with a somber expression, while an edgy Ironhide spun one of his cannons warningly behind the Autobot leader, as if to remind Barricade not to push his luck. "Ratchet was repairing your systems and stumbled upon it accidentally." Prime pointed out. "If you wish to wipe the memory from your core, you may of course do so. However, it is not my policy to encourage hiding information or lying, therefore we left the memory intact so you were aware we recovered it."

Barricade snarled, feeling all the rage and anger boiling dangerously close to the limit of his safety protocols. If his weapons had been online, they would have been glowing at the leader's throat. Fortunately for him, disabled weapons also was keeping his own body in one piece, for Ironhide wouldn't have let him get within ten feet of Optimus when he was as angry as he currently was. Still, the indignation and fury boiling within him made him tempted to simply lunge at the mech and try to tear whatever pieces he could out of him before he was off-lined. "You call yourselves moral, yet at the first chance you get you violate my private thoughts."

"I will not defend our actions, Barricade." Optimus said simply, glowing blue optics studying the angry red pair glaring up at him. "However, you might consider your own future given this revelation."

"Hah!" Barricade snarled, standing taller as he glared hatefully at Optimus. "You expect me to join you, is that it? You can rust in the Pit before I do that! The only reason that I surrendered to your pathetic little troupe…" He trailed off, realizing in his anger he'd just revealed something he hadn't intended to.

"Yes?" Optimus asked calmly. "The reason you surrendered to us?"

Barricade studied the leaders' face carefully. How much did he really know? It was impossible to tell, Optimus kept a good 'poker face' as the humans called it. He reminded the mech of Soundwave, in a goody-two-shoes kind of way. "Bah, I don't have to tell you." He growled.

"No, you do not." Optimus said, a small windy sigh escaping his processors. "However, I have my suspicions based on what you have revealed to Sam, and regarding this development. You sought the Allspark for your own reasons, I am willing to accept that, and even draw my own conclusions. However, you must realize that now knowing this, we cannot permit you to continue to remain in close proximity to Sam. You must understand our concerns that you could abuse this situation to your own advantage."

He had a point. Barricade's own actions were completely irrational to even himself. He should have taken the boy and done what he'd planned at the outset, now he was screwed in more ways than one. The Autobots knew the secret that even he had not realized he had. And this development unnerved him more than anything else. Without the distraction of war to give him the excuse to lock it back up, the memory was driving him nuts. But he refused to let that show to THEM. On the other hand, he had no desire to return to Starscream's pathetic ranks. Something inside him twisted in disgust at the thought of working with the Decepticons again, but it also twisted with equal revulsion at the thought of working with the Autobots. He was torn on what to do.

"If I might make a suggestion." Ironhide spoke up casually. All optics shifted to the weapons specialist. "I was speaking with William Lennox, who mentioned the need for a greater presence spread out across the states, but was uncertain that we would like to split our members apart, for fear of Decepticon ambush." His cannon spun slowly, the rippling yellow gold heat from it's energy sending shimmers across the path as it twirled. "Seeing as Barricade cannot help us here, and has no desire to return to his fellows, perhaps he could assist on this front."

Barricade frowned. "Work with humans? Are you insane? I work alone."

"You had a partner before." Ironhide pointed out. Barricade cringed. Frenzy. The little glitch had been a pain up his aft, but he did admit he'd had his uses. "You would still be monitored of course, both by the government of this country, as well as by ourselves. But if you were to collaborate with a representative of their choice, you could go out on your own, and you would have your weapons re-instated, providing you did not use them against the humans or ourselves."

"I have no interest in harming either of your sorry species." He snarled in reply, folding his arms over his torso. "And I don't want to work with one of those revolting fleshies."

"Fine. Then you stay here." Ironhide said calmly, a cold smile on his facial plates. "And if you frag up, I get a moving target to use as target practice."

"Ironhide." Optimus said warningly, however he didn't correct him. Instead, he turned his head back towards Barricade. "The option is yours. If you wish to have a little more freedom, you have proven yourself worthy of minimal trust. Providing you act responsibly and co-operate, this could be a useful chance for you to go and do your own thing, as you so obviously wish to do. Since you voluntarily surrendered to us and have assisted us in the interim with no insolent behavior, I feel confidant in offering you this opportunity."

Barricade scowled. Work with a human? Him? The idea of having one of those revolting flesh creatures sitting inside his cab for an extended time, their stench lingering, it was disgusting. But then, what were his other options here? He could remain a guarded prisoner with the gun-happy mech watching him all the time, make a run for it but have little chance of escape without weapons, or he could run back to that coward Starscreams's side. He cringed at the thought. Pit, no, anything but that. To be honest, he longed to turn his wheels on the Autobots and be rid of them forever. Grudgingly he growled. "What are the terms, exactly?"

"You'll remain in our communications network, Decepticon network still disabled. You'll work with a government representative, just the two of you following leads. Anything you find will be reported both to us, and to the government representatives. You essentially will be a contract agent."

"Neutral?"

"Yes."

He frowned. He could deal with Neutral. Sure, he'd been a Decepticon since he could remember, and with a shudder internally he knew that was the point. They had wanted to make him into a Decepticon who didn't question judgment, and did what they programmed him to do. And Starscream…. His internal systems began to warn him of an overload again. If he EVER found that fraggin' pit-spawned son of a glitch… he would personally rip him limb from limb, and laugh over the carcass.

"Fine." He said finally, optics lifting to stare evenly back at Prime. "On one condition. I get to scout out who I'm to work with. I won't be stuck with some useless fragger who only gets in the way."

"I think that can be arranged."

And with that, Barricade officially wiped his programming and insignia of any Decepticon markings.

He was his own mech now.


	22. Interlude Ten: Trent DeMarco

**How it Is**  
**Interlude Ten: **Trent DeMarco  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Sometimes being rich sucked. Yeah, sure you got all the cool toys, the latest trends and lots of money to spend however the heck you wanted, but Trent DeMarco was slowly learning that money couldn't buy you everything.

The sad thing was it used to, for him anyway. Rich flashy car, designer clothing, and the latest rims had landed him the hot girls. But the latest acquisition had suddenly decided that money wasn't enough for her.

She'd turned to some lame-ass computer kid.

Yeah, Trent wasn't as stupid as everyone thought he was. If his friends knew that he could have gotten mostly A's and B's, they would have laughed in his face. So he had to play it down a bit, to fit the generic stereotype to fit in.

Odd wasn't it? Trent having to fit in? If he'd told anyone about that, they would have asked what he was taking. But still, he'd LIKED Mikaela. She was different than most girls, she was smart and asked questions. She was fun to talk to. And he'd lost her to that lame-ass Sam Witwicky. Yeah, he knew about that, despite how she'd tried to hide it. How could he not know about it, when half the school was talking about it before he'd even come back to classes. He hadn't wanted to believe it at first, but slowly he'd come to realize that it was true after all…

And now he'd lost her forever.

Trent sighed, slamming his mustang's door and sitting there sullenly, not looking as Mikaela left the diner, walking back towards her house. He'd offered to give her a ride home, but she'd declined.

"Trouble with the girl?" Came a quiet accented voice from directly behind him. Trent jumped and whirled around, eyes narrowing as he spotted the dark-haired man lounging in his back seat.

"When did YOU get here?" He demanded irritated.

"I got bored, decided to follow you." He grinned slowly, showing a full set of perfect white teeth set in dark olive skin.

"Great." Trent muttered. "Enjoy yourself?"

"Extremely." Trent sighed. Great. This evening couldn't get any better. He started the engine, trying his best to ignore the guy in the back seat. "I take it your date didn't go too well?" The voice asked again, tilted with that exotic accent that would have made any girl swoon. Trent just found it highly irritating.

"No, it didn't go well. So will you just leave it alone?"

"Oh so sorry!" The sarcasm was evident. "Honestly, I don't see what you see in her. There are far more attractive girls to fish for."

"Thanks." Trent said dryly. "I'll keep that in mind." He grit his teeth angrily. He hated this guy…he really did. He knew exactly how to get on his nerves, the right places to push buttons, and seemed to enjoy every bit of it. If it weren't for his father…

"I could give you some pointers if you like."

"No thank you."

"You could use them."

"I said no."

"Fine, but you'll never get the women."

Trent grit his teeth and breathed deeply. "Don't you have a flashy car to get into?"

"Nah, I like it here."

Great. Just great. As if things couldn't get worse today.

Trent was used to strange people showing up on his doorstep. One got used to it when their dad was a high rolling executive for designer Italian clothing. He'd had exotic models staying at their mansion all the time, and it was pretty damn fun for a teen-aged boy, most of the time. Hot babes in bikinis who didn't speak much English, hell yes.

Then there were times when he desperately wished he had a normal life... times like now.

The two had shown up one day in the usual flashy cars. They clearly were the same clientele his dad always dealt with, rich, extremely handsome and very full of themselves.

He'd driven home after school as normal, but as he drove his blue H3 through the gate and pulled up towards the front of the mansion atop the hill, oddly enough, his brand new car stalled out just short of the curved drive. He frowned, pumped the gas, got nothing. The engine simply clicked over in silence. He sighed, parked and got out, muttering about shoddy mechanics in cars these days and walked the remaining hundred yards to the curve around the grove of trees blocking view to his house.

There were two cars parked there.

Two flashy cars.

Wait, the gate had been closed…

Trent blinked, and frowned suspiciously. Usually guests of his father waited OUTSIDE the gate, but he supposed it was possible that someone had given them the code. Whoever they were, they didn't seem to be around. The two cars sat empty. He approached them slowly, before he let out a low whistle. Those weren't run of the mill cars, those were fancy imports. Flashy rear spoilers, chrome wheels, dark tinted glass, and a familiar logo… Lamborghini Gallardos, the both of them. Trent approached lightly running a hand over the closest. The color was somewhere between a fiery deep red and burning orange gold... the paint shifted colors when he walked, something he'd seen in rare custom paint jobs. Likewise, the golden one did the same thing, going from brilliant sunshine yellow to a rich glittering golden color. Both were immaculately in pristine condition, polished and unmarked with even a speck of dirt. The interior was slick black custom leather, and didn't look as if it had even been sat in.

Trent glanced towards his garage suspiciously. His father had a silver one, identical to these. And sure enough, the garage door was open as one of the caretakers was giving the silver one a good polish. Trent frowned suspiciously and walked over to the man. "Hey, Amador." The mechanic turned and waved friendly-like to Trent.

"Hola, Mister DeMarco. Got some friends in today, yeah?" He peered at the two Lambos. "Fine cars. You got one too, they here for a convention or something?"

"I dunno, you seen the drivers?"

"Not yet. No one come out though, I watched them come up here. Just appeared like ghosts they did, didn't hear the gate open. They ain't done nothing yet though, so I dunno."

"Thanks, man." Trent sighed and walked back out into the sun, then stopped. Two men were leaning against the cars, arms folded calmly in front of their chests, both dressed nearly identical. They wore dark tight designer leather pants, matching Italian boots, Romani shades and black leather jackets. The only difference was one had a red shirt, the other a yellow. They had olive dark tanned skin and short black hair, and wide grins on their faces.

Great... models.

Trent walked up to them, frowning a bit. "You guys are friends of my dad, then?" he asked eying the two. They looked in their mid 20's, and had a build that would have drawn every girl's eye at school immediately to them.. or their cars.. Trent wasn't sure which was more impressive.

The two seemed to exchange glances briefly with each other, before red-shirt spoke up. His accent was clearly European, with that Italian lilt that made girls go ga-ga. "Sure." He said casually. "You own this place?"

"My dad does." Trent said scowling and pushing past the two. "But you knew that or you wouldn't be here. Well go on in, make yourselves at home...The guest rooms are downstairs to the right. There's' food in the fridge, hot tub, sauna and pool are out back, the TV room across from the guest rooms. Knock yourselves out."

"Sweet."

Trent ignored them for the most part. He was used to richly paid models coming and staying when they were in town, it was his dad's open door policy. He wheeled and dealed with the rich and haughty, therefore when they were in town they were entitled to stay at his place. The only rule was, dont' piss off the kid living there, which they usually did. The girls were fun, the guys jerks mostly. Some were cool and he got to hang with them, play pool, but most of them ignored him, used their place as a hotel, and left it trashed.

But he'd never had anyone so interested in himself before.

It started when he came downstairs for a bite to eat. Mildred the cook had put together something tasty for him, and as he entered she smiled and looked a bit puzzled. "I looked for our guests to offer them dinner, but I can't seem to find them... oh." she paused as the two men walked into the kitchen, grinning. "Hello gentlemen, dinner for you?"

"Oh no thanks." Red-shirt spoke up again, grinning wider. "We're good."

"Suit yourself, dears." Mildred replied, turning to serve Trent a plateful of savory pasta. He took it, sitting down at a small table set aside in the kitchen, and glanced over at the two guests.

"So you're in town on business?" He asked, popping a soda open and studying the two.

"Yeah, business." Red said casually, leaning against the wall nearby while his companion studied his reflection in the hallway mirror outside. "Nice of you to lend us this house."

Trent shrugged. "Used to it, man. Pop lets all kinds stay here, you're no different." He poked at the food."I'm Trent by the way."

Red grinned widely and nodded once, thumbing back towards his partner. "Il Sole della Rettitudine." He said in fluent Italian, with a teasing smirk. His partner looked up sharply and scowled at him in obvious irritation. (1) He completely ignored him. "Lato esposto al sole..." He pointed at himself and smirked as the other made a small snort.(2)

Trent nodded a little. He had no idea what the guy had said. Despite the foreign models who stayed, he'd yet to pick up any languages. He was used to nicknames, most of the models had them. Blanca, Fiona, Butch. He'd heard them all. But at least he could pronounce them. "You guys brothers or something?"

"Yes." Red said folding his arms casually, studying him with what Trent felt was more attention than he'd like. Granted, he couldn't see if the guy was staring at him or not, as the Romani shades blocked out his eyes.

"Well nice to meet you. How long you in town?"

"Oh we're here just until we find some friends of ours." He leaned forward, almost as if he wanted to ask something, when Gold spoke up in rapid Italian.

_"You really think this kid knows anything?"_ He asked coldly glaring through his glasses at the teen. _"He's dumb as a post."_

_"Be nice."_ His brother replied in like. _"We picked up a small signal here, I'm curious to see who's hiding out near our friend."_

_"Probably no one. Let's just go out looking, this place is boring."_

_"We'll only stay a day or two. Prime's signal isn't far from here. We can wait a few days. Besides, we're not sure we lost ol' Screamer."_

_"Jet Judo works every time. He ain't gonna fly straight for vorns."_

_"I still say he faked the crash."_

_"Whatever."_

But they hadn't stayed just a few days. They'd stayed a few weeks. At first, Trent had thought nothing of it. The two seemed content to hang out by their cars, or vanish off somewhere. They didn't leave the grounds, but seemed content to just lounge around. Oddly, Trent also noticed their rooms were untouched, they didn't take Mildred's offer of cooking, nor raid the fridge.

It was all highly suspicious.

On the third day, he accidentally stumbled on their secret.

He'd been in quite a foul mood around the two, and not just because they were there. For some reason his car had been acting up. He'd stopped driving it, parking it in the garage out of sight and taking the mustang instead. Then one night he woke up to strange sounds, and sleepily peered out his window. At first he didn't see anything, but after a few moments bright lights flashed by the window as something with very bright headlamps flooded his room. He winced and squinted. What the heck? It looked like someone was climbing on the wall with really bright flashlights...

He heard a motor start.

"Oh no you don't." He scowled. Steal his car were they? Not on his life!

He pounded down the stairs and burst out into the driveway, bare feet and boxers his only clothing as he grabbed a rock and chucked it towards the lights. "Hey assholes!"

He heard the rock strike with a dull thud, something metal. Then the lights both turned as one and surrounded him. He threw his hands up, cursing as he was promptly blinded, before a very angry booming voice rang out from somewhere very very high above him. "**WHAT THE HELL, HE CHIPPED MY PAINT!**"

Trent froze. That voice wasn't natural. It was like it was being spoken through a sound system, loud and booming and slightly mechanical in nature, as if a computer were broadcasting it. And it was coming from somewhere about 16 feet above him. Slowly, his eyes lifted, squinting through the harsh light hovering over him, trying to make out the forms from behind his hands. What he saw was something that made his heart pause in his chest. A vague head with two narrow angry glowing blue eyes, looming above the harsh light, and a second set stepping into view with loud reverberating thumps that shook the ground beneath his feet.

Trent DeMarco was at a loss for words... and did the only thing he possibly could. A warm sensation trickled down his legs the same moment the world spun wildly out of control, and the bright lights and booming voices blissfully faded away into silent blackness.

When he woke up the next morning, he was quite puzzled as to why he was laying flat on his back in the middle of his driveway, and why he smelled like piss. He sat up slowly, looking around baffled as the sun beat down on his bare shoulders, warm in the early spring morning. It was quiet, with birds singing softly around him, the hiss of sprinklers watering the lawn off to the side. Puzzled, Trent stood up, and immediately stared at the ground under him. A discolored spot, and uncomfortable odor suddenly sent the previous night's events rushing back to him like he'd been tackled during a blitz. Bright lights, booming voices in his driveway... He whirled around panicked. But there were no towering figures, no bright lights... In fact, no sign at all that anything out of the ordinary had happened. Except...

A single rock was sitting not ten feet from him, smashed into tiny pebbles.

Trent's heart caught in his throat.

It hadn't been a dream.

He whirled about and tore back towards the house at breakneck speed, rounding the drive and skidded to a hault as flash of yellow slammed into his legs catapulting him up over a flat hood and windshield, and rolling into the soft still wet grass. He gasped for breath, wincing as he hit the ground, feeling aches already as he looked up, wide-eyed and panicked. The car spun around with a skid of wheels, and it's engine revved, inches away from his face.

Trent gulped. _Oh shit._

Without thinking, he bolted back across the grass at full tilt not caring that he was mostly naked, nor caring where he was going. He just had to get AWAY. He stumbled, sliding in the wet grass and falling flat on his side before he finally reached the wall, vaulted it with one leap that would have made the track team proud, and landed flat on his feet outside the property.

An idling red car sat waiting for him.

He froze, gulping as he panted for breath, pale-faced and frozen in place as the car rolled slowly towards him, stopping when it was right next to him, and it's window rolled down. Red leaned out casually, watching him with a solemn face with no smile. "Yo."

Trent wanted to run again, but the adrenaline had been replaced by fear for his life, as suddenly he wondered just how safe it was trusting these two. They KNEW something...So he stood there, unable to move as the yellow car suddenly pulled around the corner, speeding out of the driveway and coming to a skidding stop on the opposite side of the frozen boy. He was blocked off... he had no where to run.

"So." Red was saying casually, grinning as he stuck an elbow out the side of the car. There was something odd about that too...but Trent couldn't place it. "Obviously we can't have you telling anyone what you think you saw last night."

Trent just nodded dumbly, eyes sliding over to the yellow car. The windows were still dark giving him no sign of who was inside, but there was a small scratched dent on the hood, barely visible in the sunshine...but Trent knew what it meant.

The car was mad.

Yeah, he knew he sounded crazy... But things had only gotten weirder. Ever since then, Trent had jumped any time one of them snuck up on him, which they so enjoyed doing. Red was the perpetrator mostly, teasing him, enjoying hanging out in his back seat randomly on his way home from school. Occasionally he'd catch sight of a flash of red or yellow following him anywhere he went.

He had no idea what they were, but he knew one thing.. they weren't normal. And he didn't want to know anything more than that. Plus, Red had casually told him what would happen to him if he mentioned one word of this to anyone.

Trent didn't sleep well at night anymore.

So when he walked outside of his house one morning to find the two of them gone, he let out a sigh of relief, but carefully peered around the garage, looked down the street, and checked behind trees to be certain. Amador had taken the mustang to be serviced, so he risked his chances and jumped into his H3, surprised when it started right up and backed smoothly out the driveway. The entire drive to school he didn't see one flash of red or yellow... and when he pulled into his parking space at school, he let out a deep sigh of relief, his head smacking on the wheel. "Thank god, they're finally gone."

"You and me both, tiger. You and me both." came a clear voice from the dashboard of his car.

Trent DeMarco whimpered aloud. God help him...

* * *

_Author's note: Here's the rough translations of the Italian the twins spouted. Also there's an image on my profile of what their new forms look like._

_1. il Sole della Rettitudine - the Sun of Righteousness (don't it fit him?)_

_2. lato esposto al sole - On the side of the sun / sunny side (the best I could do for Sideswipe!)_


	23. Chapter 13: Oh Help I'm Gonna Die!

**_How it Is_**  
**_Chapter 13: Oh Help I'm gonna Die!_**  
_By: Nightelfcrawler_

_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

_Author's note: I'd like to take this chance to thank all of you who have commented and given me feedback on this fic. As of now, it finally has surpassed my previous top fic as the most popular on my list, with over 17k hits, 90 watching for updates and 155 reviews. Thanks so much for the encouragement and keep it coming!_

* * *

"Sam?" 

"Go'way."

"Sam. You must wake. It is time for your instruction to begin."

"One more minute Mom…"

"I am not your mother".

_Huh?_ Sam's eyes opened slowly, to find the usual posters plastered overhead, the dim light of the morning not even having started to light the room. "What time is it….?" He groaned aloud, half-rolling over to stare at the clock blearily. "Five am! Aw man, come on, another couple hours!"

There was a windy sigh of irritation, followed by a gruff warning. "If you do not begin early, the heat will affect your systems during training."

It took him a moment before he realized that he'd completely forgotten what the heck was going on. "Oh!" He jumped up, rolling off his bed, blinking sleepily out the window only to see one pair of blue optics set in a black chassis, glaring in on him. "I totally forgot… wait, Ironhide… you're my first trainer?!" He gulped, realizing that he hadn't quite expected that. "I'm too young to die!"

It had been several weeks since their latest arrivals had dropped into their life. Immediately, it had started a chain of events that had kept things busy. Wheeljack immediately demanded his own space to work, and had been eventually granted a building on the complete other end of the base, away from the rest of the buildings the Autobots had been reformatting for their uses. Ratchet had warned stiffly that if Wheeljack ever snuck into his med-bay again, "By Primus' name I'll disassemble you myself!" Of course that hadn't stopped him from doing it behind the medic's back. Every time some of Ratchet's supplies mysteriously vanished, no one had to guess where it had gone. To Wheeljack's credit, he hadn't blown anything up yet.

He had, however, been hard at work conglomerating processor operations with Hound. The first project was to repair Bumblebee's holo-emitter. Sam had asked to watch them work when he had free time after school, doing his homework while seated on a shelf above their workspace. The only reason Bee had allowed him within a hundred feet of the inventor was because he felt fairly safe that holo-emitters couldn't blow up. Sam wondered if he'd ever get to see some of these famous explosions everyone kept going on about. Either way, it had been interesting work to watch the two robots chattering in rapid tonal communication, sometimes forgetting the human could understand every word as he watched them work. Mikaela also joined him on occasion, taking notes as if she were in class. He teasingly joked that she'd never be through with school the way things were going. She'd elbowed him and smirked, telling him she'd like to see HIM attempt repairs like that. He shut up pretty quick.

The first few attempts failed miserably.

When Hound finally finished his alterations and Wheeljack hooked up the emitter from an exterior position, wires running into the scout's head, Sam and Mikaela leaned forward to watch curiously, wondering what Bee would pick for a holographic representation of himself. Sam had been giving him ideas all week, leaning towards the big beefy blonde jock who could threaten others to stay away from him. Mikaela had been a bit offended by that, and insisted Bee wasn't a thug, and he should pick something more closer to Sam, so they could pass as friends. Miles had been enthusiastic about that idea too, wondering if holograms could play X-boxes. Bee had pointed out that despite significant advancements on the technological front, no one had figured out how to give light projections tangible forms. Miles had been a bit put out, but had leaned back in Bee's back seat proclaiming he still thought the car was 'wicked cool'.

Therefore, everyone was quite looking forward to the first test. Even Ironhide had shown up, curiously watching from behind a half-closed foot-thick metal door.

The two collaborators hooked up the holo-emitter, and Bee started the download of what he'd prepared into the processors, and initiated it. There was a flicker of light and static, and a form appeared near the scout's feet.

Sam and Mikaela stared, then burst into hysterical laughter. "Oh god, Bee shut it off, shut it off!" Sam insisted, holding his sides with both arms, rolling onto his back to avoid looking.

"Hmm… it appears that the calibration is off." Wheeljack commented, staring down at what could only be described as a very bad imitation of a Picasso painting…in the nude. Eyes, ears, head, limbs were all a jumble, making it completely morphed and quite unlike anything human.

Bee made a small warble of disappointment, shutting it off quickly. Sam had the feeling if the mech could have blushed, he would have been painted red.

The second, third and fourth attempts didn't help much. Sam and Mikaela were exhausted from laughing so hard, laying flat on their stomachs on the shelf above, watching with wide grins as Wheeljack cheerfully insisted that they'd get it fixed. Bee was looking frustrated, sitting on the floor with his helmet still disassembled, arms crossed glaring sullenly at no one in particular. By now, they'd attracted the attention of everyone in the base with the raucous laughter, and even Optimus' optics were gracing their presence, peering in from behind the others stooped down to see into the room.

"Ok." Hound said, sounding a little strained, as he welded another wire and straightened up. "I think this time we have it right. There was a few crossed circuits that SOMEONE didn't notice."

"Now now, you are the expert here, I am merely trying to lend my assistance…"

Hound shot the inventor a look. "If you'd kept your nose out of it, I'd have fixed it breems ago!" He scowled. "Besides you had plenty of opportunity to watch the last time I installed them."

The mech lifted hands in defense, waving them back and forth to pacify the holo-specialist. "If you wish to develop further methods beyond our current capabilities I must be permitted to be included in the process! Besides, those two were hopeless." Wheeljack rolled his optics. "You know how the twins are at staying still, I didn't get one iota of data."

There was a pregnant pause in the laboratory before Ironhide sputtered. "THE TWINS?! They're alive? Primus, you didn't upgrade their processors, PLEASE tell me you didn't."

Ratchet broke in alarmed, shoving Ironhide out of the way with a panicked expression. "They're not coming HERE are they?"

Hound blinked innocently. "Um... yes I believe they are, if not already land-bound. They asked for the alterations when we met-up somewhere outside the solar system. I happened to have a few spare parts, so I agreed to do it. Why?"

Ratchet didn't even reply, and was gone in a flash. Sam glanced at Mikaela with a baffled look. This wasn't the first time he'd heard of these infamous twins, but no one had yet bothered to explain them to him.

Ironhide slapped a hand to his facial plates. "Why didn't you mention this earlier? If they ever show their slaggin' faces…."

Hound sighed. "Really, all of you over-react around them like they're some kind of rust plague." He shook his head and rapped Bee on the shoulder with his knuckles. "Power it up."

Bumblebee did as he was asked, a flicker of light forming at his feet again, as everyone held their breath.

This time it worked.

Sam grinned as the figure who popped into view appeared completely normal, and thankfully fully clothed. The hologram lifted it's head turning around to face Sam and Mikaela and spread it's hands as Bee's voice echoed out from it's location. "What do you think?" He was older than the two humans, but only by a few years. Tall and slim, he still had an athletic look about him. Short blonde hair in a stylish spiked cut was offset by the brilliant blue eyes that blinked up at them, the face thin and friendly. He'd chosen a simple outfit, black pants with black combat boots, a bright yellow shirt and black leather jacket.

Sam grinned and gave him a thumbs up. "Lookin' classy buddy."

Holo-Bee smiled and turned to regard the others who had remained to watch. Ironhide snorted. "Bunch of useless parts if you ask me. Can't see any use for it."

"That's because you don't use your processors to think your way out of situations." Teased Cliffjumper from behind him. "You just ignite your cannons."

"Something wrong with that, eh?" One of Ironhides' arms twitched.

"No, no. Nothing wrong at all." Cliffjumper was quick to add.

"Good work." Optimus complimented the two green mechs, before the argument could spread. "This could be useful in the long run. Anyone who wishes to have an upgrade performed should speak with Hound when he is ready to implement the new parts."

As it turned out there had only been one other interested in getting a holo-emitter installed. Sam had to agree, Ironhide didn't need one, and Ratchet had adamantly refused to succumb to anything Wheeljack was involved in, but had told Hound that perhaps he might consider it later down the road. Prime politely declined, claiming he had no use for the alterations, and could use the processor space for more important things. The only other one who had been interested, strangely enough, was Barricade. As he already had an earlier model, Prime had given him permission to undergo the upgrade.

It was shortly after that the ex-'con had left their group.

Sam couldn't think of a better day for everyone, when Prime announced that Barricade had been released on his own recognizance to perform a co-operative role between themselves and the government. Everyone breathed a little easier after that, none too unhappy to see him go. Sam couldn't help but feel uneasy still. The ex-'con knew a lot of secrets now, and no matter how encrypted his processors were to keep that data secret, he had a feeling that if there was a Decepticon out there with the will, there was a way to get it out of him. But he wasn't about to speak up and challenge Optimus' decision, trusting his judgment.

But the passing weeks had been busy for the teens, as the final round of their 11th grade was wrapping up. Sam nostalgically realized that this summer break was perhaps going to be the last vacation that he ever had…

Of course that dream had been smashed to pieces when Optimus had suggested he use the interim to begin his 'Cybertronian' education. Which brought them to this moment, with Ironhide leering in the window, and a curious Bumblebee trying to catch a glimpse from behind him.

Bee actually grinned in response to Sam's comment, making a strange chortling beeping stream of sounds that Sam recognized as laughter. "Hey, can it bucket-head!" Sam protested with an air of wounded pride. "Maybe you can take a cannon hit, but me I'll be vaporized!"

"I believe he has your safety in mind, Sam." Bumblebee said, amused. "Optimus did warn him to be gentle."

"I won't hurt you, boy." Ironhide growled. "Stop actin' as if I'm homicidal."

"You're not?" Sam asked, getting a glare for his trouble. "Great… so I'll just hurt a lot instead of lose limbs." He muttered. But at the same time, he kind of WAS looking forward to it. "Ok…well if I don't come back, look for the body." He called to Bee. Ironhide snorted, and pulled away from the window. Sam could hear the sounds indicating he'd transformed back into his Topkick mode. He sighed and stretched. "Ok… gimme a few minutes then to grab some breakfast." He jogged downstairs, dressing in light-weight clothing. It was going to be warm out today, and from what he'd been warned of, he assumed they would be out in the empty desert. He slathered on some sunscreen just in case. _Mikaela gets it easy, being in a cool medical bay all day…_ Sam thought jealously. "Course, I get to fire cool weapons." He admitted aloud, grinning as he took a deep chug of orange juice before he dashed out the door and jogged up to the idling black truck. Bumblebee had left, presumably to return to base or whatever else he'd been assigned to do.

"You're…you're not going to use me for target practice, are you?" Sam demanded in a half-laugh, but not really joking, as he stopped in front of the Topkick.

Ironhide snorted. "Ridiculous." Pause. "I don't need it." He pointed out rather smugly. "You however, must learn to use weapons to protect yourself. We will start simple. Lennox kindly loaned us some of his equipment."

Uh oh, Sam gulped. This was SO not good.

It turned out he was right. He climbed into the cab of the truck and they set off across the city at a calm steady pace. Riding with Ironhide was very different than riding with Bee. Ironhide just drove. He kept to the speed limits, but rarely was in a hurry to get anywhere. His philosophy behind this seemed to be that what was the rush unless there was a battle to be had. Still, Sam had seen him bust his way through traffic like a wrecking ball through a building. The weapons specialist was no one to be trifled with.

Sam was secretly glad to start the first day of his summer break with some excitement, however much he valued his life. He didn't exactly relish the idea of spending all day inside a building listen to Optimus lecture to him on history. Despite how much he liked the Autobot leader, he came off as a professor that might have Sam nodding off at his desk, despite how interesting the history might be. Of course, if holograms were involved, Sam might be more interested in SEEING the history for himself, rather than simply being told. That thought cheered him up.

Then there was Ratchet's turn. It had been determined that Sam should know basic physiology of Cybertronians, in order to better diagnose problems and relay them when needed. He wouldn't become a medic like Mikaela, but he needed to know how things worked, and what not to touch. Sam was looking forward to that tidbit of instruction, more to the fact that Mikaela would be there learning the same things. Sam smacked his forehead as an image of her popped unbidden into his head. _Oh boy…_He'd heard Ratchet had a habit of hurling wrenches… he just hoped that the mech wouldn't forget humans were a bit more fragile then metal heads and try that on him the moment his attention was diverted by his girlfriend.

Bee was going to teach him stealth techniques, along with Hound's help. Between the two of them, Sam had the feeling he was going to be calling himself 007 before long. Still, the idea of being sneakier around his parents was appealing, and those two were fun to be around. Hound was only grumpy around Wheeljack, and was quite friendly most of the other time. Sam had learned that the mech truly appreciated Earth, and was curious to learn more about the natural environment, offering to take him on a road trip some time so he could see more of the scenery.

But out of all the training in store for him, weapons training was promising to be the most exciting, if also the most dangerous.

Ironhide had taken him outside the base, into the desert where they could blow things up without worrying of causing damage. There was no one around here, and plenty of boulders to use. But it seemed that wasn't what the first lesson was going to entail. Sam had been given a brief run-down on how to handle guns by Lennox. It wasn't much, since the boy wasn't going to start military training until a little later. The Captain had agreed to do some personal instruction, put him through an unofficial boot camp, but first had insisted Sam needed to get into better shape on his own. So, Sam had started doing push-ups, pull-ups, gone for jogs early in the morning with a yellow Camaro tailing him and occasionally chasing him when his pace slowed. So far it had been hard work, but he was slowly getting better at it. But as he held the weapon in his hand, he wondered what the heck his classmates would think if they saw geeky Sam Witwicky as a commando in training. He wondered if he should don camouflage and a red bandanna.

Today was target practice for Sam. And boy Ironhide didn't go easy on him. For the first half of the day he'd spent the entire time crouched on his stomach over a small ridge, taking pot shots with the paintball gun in his hands, trying to hit a big boulder in the middle of the desert. Ironhide instructed him on how to properly use the scope, adjust for wind and height changes, and critically watched his each and every shot. Sam soon discovered he wasn't half bad either. At first he missed every shot, dappling the desert with various colors of paint as he re-loaded to try again, and again, and again. By the time Ironhide called for a break, noticing the human was perspiring heavily and seemed to be gathering buildups of lactic acid in his muscles, Sam actually had hit the intended target enough to completely cover the sandy color with bright splashes of paint.

"Well done, Sam." Ironhide praised as the human rolled over onto his back, basking in the shade the mech provided through his shadow. "You have improved greatly in a short amount of time."

"Thanks." Sam said tiredly, squinting up through his sunglasses at the mech towering over him. "Didn't know I had it in me… really."

Ironhide studied him with brilliant glowing optics, as if trying to figure out whether Sam was joking, or being genuine. "I am being truthful, Sam. Despite being an untrained post-sparkling, you are adapting well to training. You remind me of another sparkling I once trained."

Sam propped himself up on his elbows, blinking up curiously as he reached for his water bottle, chugging the rather warm liquid down greedily. "Really? Who?"

"Bumblebee."

Sam grinned. He supposed he should have realized that. "You trained him too, huh?"

"Yes. A very long time ago, by your calculations. He too adapted quickly to the life of a soldier." Ironhide mused, lifting his head skyward as if deep in thought. "He was very eager to prove himself, a bit impatient, but highly skilled."

"It's weird." Sam commented thoughtfully. "I never picture you guys… you know, growing up." He tilted his head towards the mech as Ironhide lowered his optics to return the gaze. "I mean, I know you just didn't wake up one day fully ready to blast stuff…"

"Some did." Ironhide admitted. "But most of us, it's true, were not sparked in such a way."

"How's that work?" Sam asked curiously. "The Allspark could create 'adults' right? Like Dewbot and X-bot?"

"Yes." Ironhide agreed. "The Allspark could create mechs fully mature in their skills and abilities, if a bit naive in the world around them. It was only used in such methods during the first war, to my recollection. Optimus did not have the chance to use it often, other than to reinstate life to those fallen in combat." His optics focused on Sam thoughtfully. "Most of us were sparked before the war, when things were different."

Sam nodded a little, his mind turning over questions he wanted to ask, but figured the weapons specialist wasn't the one to query about his curiosities. That was better left to Optimus' knowledge, he figured. "So I'm like Bee, huh?" Sam grinned. "Now I think I know why we get along so well."

"Indeed. You two are of similar molds." Ironhide snorted. "Trouble."

"Hey!"

Ironhide just chuckled, and allowed Sam to rest until he felt ready to continue. Then, he started a new phase of training. Sam had never tried to hit a moving, tumbling, dodging robot before. Despite using paint gun pellets, so he could see when and where he hit Ironhide, he was a bit nervous. In addition, as of yet, he'd not scored a single hit. And he KNEW the warrior was going easy on him, and not using his full skills. He'd SEEN him in battle before, and this was slow. Still, Sam was getting frustrated. He'd been crouching in the hot sun for hours, aiming carefully trying to anticipate where Ironhide would tumble to at his next shot. The mech had incredible hearing. The moment he fired the gun, Ironhide seemed able to pinpoint precisely the trajectory of the bullet, and roll, dip or duck out of the way.

Sam scowled for the umpteenth time, looking up as the dust-covered robot stood waiting for him. This wasn't working. No matter how good a shot he was, he couldn't beat a scanning system trained on his weapon. Yet Ironhide had insisted they would continue this until he learned what the lesson was about, and he refused to tell him what it was or even offer a hint. He'd just handed him the weapons and told him to start shooting. Sam's skin burned hot in the sun, and he rubbed it hoping he wouldn't be nursing a sunburn later. Okay so just shooting at him wasn't working. What else could he do then? What would bring him down? He anticipated each and every shot…

Sam blinked. That was it. He'd been too slow. He grinned and reloaded. Ironhide's fingers wiggled in anticipation seeing him aim again. This time, Sam didn't aim so carefully, instead began to fire rapidly one after another. Ironhide had to perform a serious selection of ducking and dodging, and Sam kept firing, but then the last two shots he aimed specifically as the mech was going into a roll, biting his lip as he fired two quickly one after another. He almost let out a whoop of glee when he saw bright red paint splatter on the robot's face…right in the optics.

"Frag!" He heard the word rumble out. "Cease fire, cease fi—ach" Sam added insult to injury and pinged him right in the forehead. "You little…!!"

He laughed, sitting up. "What? You were a sitting target."

Ironhide rubbed an optic carefully trying to clear the red paint off it. Sam started to laugh harder and got himself an odd glare. "You think this is funny?"

"Red paint…you look…like a mad Decepticon." Sam snickered as the mech approached.

Ironhide shot him a scowl, then sat down beside him, taking the cloth that Sam held up. "You little punk. You're as bad as the twins."

Sam didn't want to ask. Twins, pranks, he could guess the rest. "So…did I win?"

Ironhide fixed him with a look. "Do you think you did?"

Sam blinked, and thought that over. "Well…" he said slowly. "Nothing worked when I took single shots, but when I sped up you had to react faster, and to more objects… so… don't just sit and let the shots try to hit, you have to confuse the enemy with cover fire too, in between good hits."

"Exactly." Ironhide said simply. "It depends on your enemy. Sometimes single pot-shots are more effective, but in the heat of battle your enemy is going to know to dodge your shots. You have to make them work harder, and give them the chance to make a mistake. This would be easier if you had a cannon instead of primitive human toys, but then Ratchet would have my hide if you managed to actually hit me."

"Good point." Sam said, rubbing his face, feeling hot and grimy from the desert sand. "So lesson over?"

"This lesson is over." Ironhide said simply. "I have one more for you today, Sam. But this one involves less target practice, and more observation. I believe…" He stopped suddenly.

Sam blinked at the sudden pause. "What?"

"We have visitors." Ironhide said thoughtfully, a frown etched on his optic ridges.

Sam blinked. "Oh!" He jumped to his feet eagerly, looking for signs of the tell-tale meteors that would be in sight. "Here?"

"No…" Ironhide said thoughtfully, with a low growl to his voice. "But not far." He said, as a smile spread over his face, in a slow glowering grin. "They apparently received Optimus' co-ordinates." He paused, and Sam knew that he was talking privately to Optimus, as he waited patiently. Finally after a moment, he straightened. "We are to intercept them. Come on, Sam." And with that, Ironhide's body twisted and melded, dropping back down smoothly into the Topkick. Sam grabbed his gear, and tossed it into the back of the truck's bed, then leapt into the cap as they tore off across the empty desert.

Sam grabbed onto the seat for support as the Topkick rocketed down the highway at breakneck speeds, passing cars left and right. Ironhide didn't seem to care that they were breaking every speed limit known to man, nor that Sam was clutching onto the seat desperately. "Dude, slow down! What's the hurry?" He demanded, his heart pounding as they narrowly missed hitting a semi-truck that reminded him of Optimus as it honked it's horn. "Holy...Ironhide!"

"My apologies, Sam." The truck replied, his tone growling. "But they have a head start on us...if we wish to catch them, we must go quickly. They are not expecting us yet."

"They? And WHO are they exactly?" Sam asked, wondering what on Earth and Cybertron had gotten into the weapons specialist. Usually he was calm, if trigger happy. It was strange to see him so...excited.

"You'll see." Ironhide growled, almost gleefully. "Slag, they're fast as usual."

Sam blinked, wondering what had gotten up Ironhide's aft. They were rocketing back towards the base, following the two who apparently were heading there. But soon, Sam got an inkling. For a moment, it was hard to see what they were chasing, since there were many cars scattered over the highway in the early afternoon. But it didn't take him long to see exactly what he expected to see: two flashy cars weaving to and fro amidst traffic, back and forth trading places with one another as if they were performing some kind of complex dance move. Sam watched amazed, as they sped before and behind a truck, and switched places, ignoring the blare of horns. He squinted to see what make they were, and felt his blood turn hot. Lamborghinis...both of them... one a bright sunshine yellow, the other a hot flashy red.

"Dude." He murmured. "Are they always so showy?"

"Yes." Came the amused reply. "Now hang on." And with that, the Topkick floored it, accelerating to a rocketing 100mph and speed up, slowing down only when he was right in between the two of them. At first, Sam glanced over and peered down at the yellow one on his right. They weren't exactly keeping low-key, spoilers streaming white behind them, chrome hubcaps flashing in the light. They hovered there for a moment, then pushed faster, trying to speed up out of his range, but he didn't let them, keeping pace and blaring his horn loudly to get others to move over quickly or be run over. He sped up then slowed down to match the Lambos as they kept pace. Then, they did their move, one ahead, one behind, and rotated around him, almost teasingly. "Oh hoh, so that's it." Ironhide rumbled. "Fine." And Sam gulped as the Topkick slammed on his brakes, and the sunshine yellow one nearly smashed right into his rear.

Instantly the radio crackled with a loud angry retort in Cybertronian. _"What the frag, you almost scratched the new paint! Move your big aft!"_

Ironhide chuckled. "They think YOU'RE driving,. Sam."

Sam grinned. "Oh right, you're invisible to them with me nearby, right?" Sometimes being the human Allspark had it's advantages, as this close to Ironhide, it effectively rendered them to 'silent running' mode.

"Yes. Do me a favor...what's that move humans call...? Flippin' the bird?"

Sam laughed, and quickly slid over to the driver's seat, rolled the window down, waved cheerily at the red car, and flipped it off.

For a moment, the red car didn't do anything. Sam knew he was looking up the reference, then it's engine revved loudly, and it shot ahead, the yellow car dodging to the other side and joining him as they tore away. Ironhide followed, as they sped off the freeway, and down onto an abandoned road, with the truck hot on their tail. Sam had to admit, it was fun watching them run. Ironhide might not have been as fast, but he was steady, and they soon found that the rough road was not ideal for bombing down at top speeds. They couldn't go fast without bouncing all over the place, and soon they had no choice but to skid to a sudden stop, as they figured out that the bridge ahead of them was blocked off...because it was missing. They both performed a perfect 180 degree turn in opposite directions, as Sam and Ironhide slowed to a stop facing them. "Go have fun kid..." Ironhide said.

"Wait, don't YOU mean you're going to have fun?" Sam asked apprehensively. "What if they squish me?"

"They won't."

He swallowed, but opened the door and slid out, walking forward to stand in front of the Topkick, facing the two Lamborghinis. Would they transform, pinned here with no escape from a pesky human and his truck? No, they wouldn't, he realized with a grin, leaning back on the truck, arms crossed. Because they weren't able to pick up life signs from him either. They were probably just as confused as they could be. So they stood there, eyeing each other as Sam watched casually. Finally he spoke up. "Yo guys, what's up?"

The two were silent, and he figured they were trying to communicate with each other on private channels. He decided not to interrupt, and just leaned there, grinning at them.

They had to be sitting there for a good half hour, unmoving, as Sam just relaxed, feeling Ironhide shaking silently with laughter behind him, fully enjoying their nervousness. Sam casually put his hands back on the hood, as if propping himself up, and whispered in a low voice, hoping the two couldn't hear him. "What do you think big guy? Let them off the hook? Had your fun?"

"Yeah, I've had my fun." Ironhide replied in equal quiet tone, with a obvious mirth. "Payback's a glitch."

"Man you guys are stubborn." Sam spoke up finally. He then straightened and patted the hood of the truck. "Your on, big guy." And with that he stood up and walked off to the side, as Ironhide let out a loud laugh, before he began to transform, and stood up, towering over the two, his arms crossed.

There was an awkward pause, before suddenly loud protesting curses began to fly in the air. _"What the...Ironhide you ol' pit-slaggin' fragger! You scared the slag outta me!"_

_"This whole time it was you?! No way, I KNEW that kid couldn't do that kind of move!"_

"Hey hey!" Sam spoke up waving a hand. "Kid over here. I'm not a bad driver I'll have you know!"

There was more silence as the two realized what he'd just said. Ironhide chuckled. "I think you surprised them nearly as much as I did, Sam."

"The human UNDERSTANDS us?!" The yellow car was already switching forms, rotors twisting and flexing, turning into a robot roughly Bumblebee's size, and just about the same color, only different design, less streamlined and more angular, with impressive helmet flairs.

The red followed suit nearly a heartbeat after, turning into a different variety of his twin, a little less flashy. The yellow one stared at him with narrow blue optics, a bit resentfully, while the red knelt down to be closer to Sam's height, peering at him curiously. "Why don't I pick up your life-signs, human?" He asked in a bewildered voice, obviously not trying to be rude by the name he used, just ignorant.

"It's Sam." He replied waving a hand. "And you can't scan me cause I'm um...well..."

"Sam possesses the Allsparks' energy." Ironhide clarified. "Scans do not work around him."

"So THAT'S why you were able to sneak up on us, 'Hide!" The red one said, looking up at the black robot with a wide grin. "Tricky!" His optics flashed back down to Sam. "I'm Sideswipe, by the way, Sam. And that's my brother Sunny."

"SUNSTREAKER!" bellowed the yellow robot, scowling. "That's my name, use it!"

Sam grinned widely. "So you're the infamous twins I've heard about."

"Yup." Sideswipe said grinning. "Hear that, Sunshine?" An optic ridge twitched on his twin. "...our reputation precedes us."

"Don't let it go to your heads. They're inflated enough." Ironhide snorted. "Now, you wanna tell me why you didn't REPORT IN when you landed?!" He suddenly went from amused to stern.

The two fell silent at the bellow, then pointed at each other in perfect tandem. Sam had to slap a hand over his face to keep from laughing. "HIS idea." Sunstreaker insisted. "He claimed he picked up some weak signal, and we just HAD to check it out."

"Stop that." Sideswipe slapped his brother's hand away. "You were curious too, admit it." He prodded his brother's shoulder plating insistently."

"Signal?" Ironhide frowned. "What kind of signal."

"One we lost." Sideswipe said with a sigh. "Traced it to some punk kid who dented Sunny's paint." Sunstreaker growled and crossed his arms defiantly. "But it vanished off radar when we got close."

"Probably because you two showed up." Ironhide growled. "Ran and hid."

"Aw, don't be that way."

"You're just trying to ruin our fun, 'Hide."

"You mean HIS fun." Sideswipe snorted. "You enjoyed terrorizing us, 'Hide."

"You bet your aft I did." Ironhide turned and twisted back into the Topkick, opening his door.

"No wait!" Sideswipe said quickly jumping in front of Sam, and in a blink was folded back into the Lamborghini. "I wanna take him!"

"I don't mind, Ironhide." Sam called, chuckling a bit. To ride in the flashy red car... hell yes. Poor Bee might be a bit jealous though.

"Very well, but don't take any risks... humans are fragile, even if Sam is more resistant than most." Ironhide scolded firmly to the twins. "Follow me then."

Sam slid into the passenger seat, just as the car revved it's powerful engine and tore off, speeding past the truck in a heartbeat. "Man oh man, you guys chose nice rides." Sam commented.

"Thanks." Sideswipe said, blasting the radio for him as they tore up the road. "I thought humans were just lower life-forms...but your music is fascinating! We don't have anything like this back on Cybertron. I'm assuming you know all about that right?"

"Yeah." Sam chuckled. "I bought a car...turned out to be an alien robot...things just kinda went nuts after that."

"Which one of us was he?"

"Bumblebee."

"Bee!" Sunstreaker's voice came in over the radio. "Frag, I missed him! He's functional?"

"Oh yes. He had some rough times but he's back to normal." Sam grinned. "You guys hung out huh?"

"Oh yes, at times. Bee was our 'project'." Sunstreaker gloated.

"Project?"

"We were trying to teach him everything we knew..."Sideswipe replied gleefully. "He was doing well too! Slipped slag in Wheeljack's High Grade once...oh you should have SEEN that!"

Sam grinned. "Oh boy...and let me guess, Ironhide's a target?"

"One of our favorites! Him and The Hatchet, is he here?"

"Oh yeah." Sam grinned. "Remind me to play it scarce when you guys make your move.. I've seen him mad without pranks."

They all laughed, before Ironhide broke in. "Just don't mess with the cop, if he ever comes back that is." He recommended. "Trust me, pranks won't go over with that one."

"Cop?" They both asked simultaneously.

"What cop:?"

"Prowl?"

"No." Ironhide rumbled. "Meaner."

"Ew."

It wasn't hard to see why Ironhide had so much amusement and hostility towards the twins. Within the first hour, they had already stuck pink paint in Ironhides' path for him to step on and track all over base, replaced every one of Ratchet's tools carefully organized by drawer and use, and reordered them in their own fashion, and stuck a pink ballerina air freshener in Optimus' cab.

Sam wondered HOW they'd done that, and Sideswipe had assured him he'd rather not know.

He believed him.


	24. Interlude Eleven: Life of a Mech Student

_**How it Is**__  
__**Interlude Eleven: The Life of a Mech Student**__  
__By: Nightelfcrawler__  
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

It was unusually silent over the base as she slowly pushed open the human sized door next to the double rolling airplane hangar doors. The base had steadily become a new home for Mikaela, who was used to unusual places that bore that title. From the back seat of various stolen trucks, to RV's she'd become fairly comfortable in her grandmother's nice plush mobile home. However, the moment she stepped into the base it had that welcoming scent that she loved so much, carbines, burnt fluids and an electric zing to the air that seemed synonymous no matter what species you belonged to. It hung about the base, leftover from the military use mixed with new things bubbling and boiling from the other end of the base that was designated off-limits unless you were with an Autobot, for safety reasons. But one day, she swore she'd get a peek in on Wheeljack's lab. She heard he was converting various fossil fuels into Energon, trying to find the best mix they could use. It sounded a lot like fiddling with the chemistry set she'd had when she'd been a kid. She remembered nearly melting the carpet during one accident with some hydrochloric acid. 

But then, she did value her life at the moment, so she was happy to wait until it was 'safe'... if it ever was.

She shook her head and slid into the building, finding the large airplane hanger quite crowded with new equipment, from large towering tables, to computer systems lining each wall, arced cables swung about the ceiling, and neat rows and stacks of shelves and containers. It wasn't hard to find the subject of her scrutiny despite all the clutter, however. He was the one humming.

Mikaela found it endearing that the Autobots had picked up on human mannerisms. Ratchet seemed to find the humming method relaxing, whereas Bumblebee loved music, Ironhide had a habit of looking up movie quotes to use, and even Optimus seemed to enjoy pacing about with his hands tucked behind his back, watching the scenery around the base. It was interesting to see how they all related to their new home, adapting the culture.

Ratchet was so engrossed in his humming, that he hadn't heard her enter at first, so she cleared her throat, and he paused, blinking his bright blue optics down at her. "Oh, hello Mikaela. You are early."

"I am?" She asked, glancing at her watch. "You said nine, right?"

"Yes, but you are currently 4.87 seconds early." The medic pointed out matter-of-factly.

Mikaela smiled. "Sorry. I'll be more punctual next time."

"You came prepared as I asked?"

"Yup." She hefted the duffel from one shoulder. "I'll just go get changed."

"Very well, I will prepare today's lesson for us."

Mikaela slipped into one of the smaller sections of the hanger, glad no one else was around. Today Sam had the lucky job of being with Ironhide...again... Poor guy. But in a way, she was curious to see what Sam would do with this new soldier training. She couldn't help but feel her cheeks heat a little at the thought of him in fatigues, holding a gun with a bulging bicep. Sam with a bicep.. yeah right. But still, he could be hot with a little toning work... She smiled dreamily.

She yanked the coveralls out of her bag and slipped into them, the familiar smell of grease filling her nose as she pulled the mechanic's suit over her small frame. She hadn't put this on for a while, and was excited to be doing it again. Ratchet had assured her that he didn't think any fluids they would be working with were dangerous to organics, but had recommended she take precautions just in case. She had no complaint, and was used to wearing the coveralls anyway. She pulled her hair up out of her face into a tight bun, then headed out, gloves in her pocket. She jogged up the small ladder that Ratchet had thoughtfully installed on one of the tables' legs, and pulled herself up. Ratchet had already prepared for her, as something large lay under a thick discolored canvas sheet, and various tools lay neatly in a row on a side-table. "So what are we doing?" She asked, walking carefully around the table to join the robot's side.

"I believe your assimilation instruction is about as complete as you can handle at the moment." Ratchet turned to study her carefully. "Considering your human brain does not have installed memory capacity to store information, you have still assimilated information very rapidly. I am quite impressed."

"Computers may be great for memorizing things..." Mikaela spoke up, just a little defensively. "But we human's aren't that far behind you. Besides, I've been working with cars since I could hold a wrench, learning a new system isn't that difficult, and it is an interesting challenge."

"Indeed." Ratchet said pleased. "That is why I believe you are capable of hands-on opportunity. I considered maintaining a holographic representation of a mech for you to examine, but as it would not have physical form, it would be of little use other than observation. Therefore, I believe this method will help you adapt and learn our systems, without consequence of doing any damage."

Mikaela blinked curiously at the large shape under the canvas. "Spare parts?" Instantly she saw a change in Ratchet's expression, and her heart clenched abruptly as she had a growing suspicion that left a bad taste in her mouth. "Oh.. Ratchet." She said quietly. "I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean that..."

"No, you had no way of knowing." Ratchet said softly, reaching over and pulling the canvas off the table, revealing the broken body of Jazz laying beneath.

Mikaela felt her throat close up as she stared down at the dim visor of the fallen lieutenant. "Ratchet... I can't do this..." She said quietly. "It wouldn't be right."

"Nonsense." Ratchet said regaining his previous fervor. "I believe there would be nothing better than to polish your skills by repairing him. He would be proud to help you learn by donating his body to the cause. Besides..." Ratchet said softly. "I do not wish to leave him in this condition. He deserves better."

Mikaela nodded, the lump still in her throat. "I would be honored to help repair him."

"Not help." Ratchet said, crossing his arms. "I will be here instructing you, but YOU are going to be the one to do the work. There is no better way to learn, than to do it yourself."

Mikaela looked up at him, a bit startled. "You want me to do everything? But..." she hesitated. "...what if I make mistakes?"

"That is why we are starting by repairing Jazz, and not an on-line team-mate." Ratchet pointed out. "There is little damage you can do to his systems. You make your mistakes here, I assist you correct them, that way when an injured patient comes in, you know the basics and can quickly handle the problem. Besides..." he hesitated. "I am still not certain how actively charged Energon would react with biological tissue. Jazz's Energon is not charged, and most of it was drained during battle, so I do not believe it will affect you."

She nodded awkwardly, biting her lip. It still felt... wrong. It was like working with a human cadaver for med students. This wasn't just some car, or some part she could practice on, this had been a live being, capable of thinking and acting, on his own. Still, she felt a sudden surge of pride in her chest as she gazed down at their fallen friend. She would make sure to do the very best she could, and repair him the way he deserved.

"Ok." She said firmly, looking up at Ratchet with blazing blue eyes. "Let's do it."

He smiled encouragingly at her. "Right. Then come over here, we'll start by fixing the damage to the existing parts before we try to re-patch the center portion." He pointed to a section as she carefully climbed over the still mech, and bent over to examine the parts intent on her job. She worked very carefully as Ratchet walked her through every step of the way, learning what parts went where, which were important and primary systems, and which were secondary support structures. He had her pull some wires and re-patch new ones, long so they could splice them together later. He had her solder out some ripped piping, and prepare to patch together new ones. The hardest thing was patching the exoskeleton. The joints had been ripped right out of their socket, so that required actually cutting away part of the chassis in order to repair what lay beneath. It was a project that was going to take months to finish, she knew. Especially as she had to listen, learn and absorb all the dangers and problems that could arise from patching the wrong system. As they worked, she asked a few questions that had been bothering her mind since the battle in Mission City, things she knew that she might never get the courage to ask again. "Ratchet?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly, Mikaela. You may ask me anything you like."

"I've been wondering." She said, pausing from soldering a few seams to look up at the CMO. "How do sparks actually work? I mean... I know it's something like the human heart... but it's different right? Once a spark... dies... it's gone for good... You can't restart it like humans do with defibrillators?"

Ratchet sighed windily, still watching her from his seat upon a tall mech-sized rolling stool. "Hmm... you can compare it to the human heart in it's function, yes. But it is indeed more than that." he said softly. "It is in essence, our souls. The spark powers our Energon and brings life to our systems, like a heart, but a mech is nothing when powered up without a spark to fuel him, merely an empty shell." His gaze shifted to Jazz's silent form with a sad expression on his facial plates. "When a spark disintegrates it is re-incorporated into the Matrix, and even medics have no power to save it."

"What about..." She said softly. "The Allspark?"

"Ah yes." He replied equally as softly. "The Allspark is the one exception... There is a reason it was protected by every Prime, passed down through the ages. It has the power to create new life, as you have seen it do during the battle, the power to destroy life as you also saw Sector 7 when they abused it's power, and it has the power to heal, and even bring sparks back from the very Matrix itself."

Mikaela's eyes lowered to the fallen figure of Jazz, feeling tears trying to spark within her tear ducts. "So... do you think that one day... Sam might be able to..." Her voice choked up a little as she stopped, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand quickly.

Ratchet turned his optics to watch her tenderly. "I do not know, Mikaela. Sam's connection to the Allspark is something that I would have told you were completely impossible if it had not already happened. We are in uncharted waters, but..." He looked thoughtful. "...I would not say it is not possible one day. As to date, Sam has shown incredible abilities that have only barely begin to scratch the surface of what the Allspark can do... but one of those things did involve healing, and he himself had been completely unaware that he'd done it until I informed him." He said thoughtfully, his gaze gentle on the young woman. "If he continue to adapt at the rate he has been, it is entirely possible. I myself hold a high hope for that oppertunity. Were the Allspark whole and in Optimus' hands, he would have used it for just that purpose. But I know he does not wish to press Sam too hard until he is ready." Ratchet paused. "Are you frightened by this, Mikaela?"

She glanced up at him blinking in surprise. "Frightened? No... why?"

"Well, such things as this are not common occurrences to your people. I know Sam has expressed his fear and concern at the developments...I am curious as to how you are handling the issue. Are you not afraid of what will happen to him?"

She thought that question over for a moment, fiddling with the ends of the wires in her hand. "Afraid... no... I'm not afraid of Sam, if that's what you mean. No matter what happens to him, I know he'll still be the same person... he's stronger than even he realizes, I think." She said softly. "I'm not afraid of what will happen to him... I'm more afraid that Sam will begin to pull away from me because he's afraid of what he could do, afraid he'd upset me or hurt someone... But I know he wouldn't ever do that intentionally... so I'm not afraid of him or the situation. Whatever happens, I know he's going to find a way to make something positive happen out of this. I'm happy for him."

Ratchet shook his head with amazement at the small human's revelation. "Mikaela, for such a young human, barely older than a sparkling, your ability to mature and accept this turn of developments is admirable. You have much strength and courage to face the unknown with such passion." He smiled warmly. "I have also noticed that you and Sam seem to be growing fonder of each other."

Mikaela blushed brightly at that, shooting the medic a small glare. "Scanning our pheromones again?"

"I don't have to scan." He pointed out. "It's practically obvious. You two radiate an aura similar to those who wish to spark-bond with each other."

Her face turned deeper red. "I wouldn't go that far yet... we're still young."

"Youth has little to do with the heart." He said kindly. "Sometimes experiences draw it closer, as they say."

"Yeah." she said softly, smiling warmly. "Maybe you're right."

They worked steadily until there was a light knock on the door, disturbing both their concentration as it slid open, revealing a familiar white and green face. "Ah! Ratchet, good you are available." Wheeljack said cheerfully, stepping inside the medical bay slowly, before his bright optics found Mikaela. "Oh, hello there." His side panels flashed cheerily. "Mikaela, right?" She smiled in response, sitting back on her heels and wiping her forehead tiredly. "I hope I am not interrupting."

Mikaela got the distinct impression from the tension behind her, that he was indeed doing just that, but Ratchet was being too polite to kick him out with her around. "What do you need now?"

Wheeljack appeared slightly wounded. "Now, don't be that way my friend. I simply wondered if you might have some time to test some new formulas I've been developing. I believe I have several varieties, but I am not certain which is the most viable."

Mikaela glanced over to Ratchet, raising an eyebrow. The medic looked slightly disturbed. "Formulas for what?"

"Energon."

Ratchet sighed windily. "Oh no, I'm not getting an overload on high grade today, thank you. I have a student to instruct."

Wheeljack looked slightly put out, and shot Mikaela an apologetic look. "I would invite you, but I don't believe High Grade is compatible with human systems."

"That's fine." Mikaela smiled warmly. "It's the thought that counts, right?"

"Indeed!"

"Why not ask the twins, I saw them racing around upstairs when Hound dropped me off." Mikaela suggested.

Behind her, Ratchet sputtered. "ARE YOU MAD?!" He stared at her like he just had eyed Wheeljack a moment ago, as if she herself was ready to blow up any moment. "Give the twins high-grade and you'd better find a new medic, because I quit!"

"Oh come on, it's not THAT much." Wheeljack pouted slightly. "Only little samples, I'm not that mentally unstable to brew a whole vat. I would prefer your expertise, as you have more experience."

Twitch. "Are you saying I'm old, or I enjoy being intoxicated?"

"Um. Both?"

CLANG! A heavy metal wrench spun through the air with amazing speed, and ricocheted directly off Wheeljack's cranium with a resounding musical note, as the scientist attempted to duck, but was not quick enough for Ratchet's aim. "FIND ANOTHER GUINEA PIG!"

"All right, all right. Touchy!"

Ratchet sighed windily, and glanced at Mikaela who was trying to keep a straight face. "My apologies, Mikaela." He said with a clearly irked tone. "Perhaps it is time to take a break."

"Yeah." She agreed, grinning. "Out of curiosity, why does High Grade Energon affect you guys like alcohol?" She could barely wrap her mind around the idea of any of them intoxicated. It would be very dangerous for the humans, she mused. "I mean, I know how humans get drunk, but how does it work for you guys?"

"Well, High Grade Energon is an extremely concentrated amount of what we normally reproduce in our systems." Ratchet explained. "When a mech requires a medical addition to his Energon, we use what we've synthesized through donations."

"You mean, like blood donations?"

"Something similar, yes. A mech can donate his Energon and I can then store it and reproduce it for medical uses. A mech regenerates his Energon most similar to how humans regenerate blood when donating it to a bank. Through recharge we rejuvenate, and thus restore our systems. We do not require nourishment as you humans do, however there are certain things that can give us an added boost to our systems. High Grade is one of them. It is, as I said, a concentrated form of normal Energon, and when drunk through our oral intake valve it flows through every part of our systems before being distributed, unlike a transfusion cable which goes directly to our fuel source." He smiled a bit at that. "It thus has the ability to scramble our circuitry, as that much concentrated energy at once often overloads our systems."

"And who's the lightweight of the group." She asked curiously. "Bumblebee?"

"Hah!" Ratchet chuckled. "I doubt Bumblebee has ever had much High-Grade. Few manufactured it during the war, and he was too young to become inebriated, plus we were a bit busy fighting to enjoy ourselves." He mused. "No... out of us all here? Prime is the lightweight."

"Optimus?!" Mikaela almost choked. "You're joking."

"Not at all." Ratchet said smugly. "His primary function is to keep a calm level head and make important decisions. He's not designed to handle such an imbalance to his systems. Myself and Ironhide however, we are able to consume far more before our systems are compromised."

"You'd think that such a big guy would take a lot more." Mikaela mused.

"One would think. Funny how life is sometimes, eh?"

She laughed and stood up to wipe her hands off when suddenly there was a strange vibration underneath her feet. Startled, Mikaela only had the chance to see Ratchet diving for her, before the ground rocked wildly back and forth bucking unnaturally, and she felt a whoosh of air through the open door blast in through the gaps in Ratchet's fingers as he hunched protectively over her. After a moment, the rocking stopped, and she heard Ratchet say something fast and low in his native tongue, before a glowing optic peered down through his fingers as they carefully opened around her. "Are you damaged, Mikaela?"

"Um.. no." She said shakily, slowly sitting up from her crouch as Ratchet untangled his fingers and straightened up. "What the heck was that?"

Ratchet's optics narrowed as he uttered one word. "Wheeljack."


	25. Chapter 14: Lessons

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 14: Lessons**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"Sam!" A voice called out distantly to him through the sleepy fog of his dreams, and he simply rolled over as the sun hit him full in the face. He yawned content to simply lay there, warm and cozy in bed. The sun felt delightfully good. He could lay here all day. "Sam!" An impatient voice barged into his room and a sudden shake to his shoulder jarred him out of his lazy nap. "For goodness sake, wake up!" 

He cracked an eye open, peering up over his shoulder at his mother who was scowling down at him impatiently. "Wha...?" He muttered, not at all happy at being woken up in this manner.

"There is a semi-truck parked in our ally." She said matter-of-factly, though her eyebrow seemed to have developed an odd tick for twitching up and down.

"Oh..? Tell him to wait." Sam yawned. " 'm tired."

"A SEMI-TRUCK Sam." She said firmly, in that half-frantic tone of hers that warned of an impending and uncomfortable doom heading his way.

"Yeah...?" He muttered. "So?"

Her eyebrow twitched again. "You are the strangest child I have ever raised."

"The only child, mom." Sam buried his face in his pillow, as a loud deep horn sounded from outside, making Judy jump in alarm, shooting a glare out the window at the idling semi-truck. "Gawd, Optimus." Sam groaned rolling over and sitting up. "Okay okay I'm COMING." He shouted back, poking his head out the window as he slammed it shut just to make his point. "Geeze... maybe being the Leader of all of them is making him pushy." He glanced at his mother, who still was staring nervously out the window. "Oh come on, mom. He doesn't bite. He's the nicest of them all, you'd like him."

She fixed him with a very demanding stare that clearly said she still had an issue believing giant aliens could turn into cars and drive themselves around the town on their own. "Just what are you doing spending so much time on that base, Sam..." her eyes scanned his slim figure, clearly not having missed the developing muscle that Sam had been putting on over the last few weeks. "...you look as if you're getting ready to enlist in the military."

He yawned and then lightly hugged her, much to Judy's surprise as her son gave her a warm hug and a light kiss on the cheek. "Chill out mom. I won't go marching off to war without text messaging you first, k? I'm gonna go shower up, so if Optimus honks again, sick Mojo on him for me." And with that, he strode towards the shower, leaving his mother flushed and rubbing her cheek as if she were afraid it had all been a dream. Who was that man, and what had he done with her little boy?

Sam for his part, whistled cheerfully in the shower, feeling rejuvenated and wide awake now that he was up. He'd been feeling better than he ever had as of late, and he couldn't exactly pinpoint why. He should be exhausted, sore and grumpy from spending day in and day out crouched in the desert doing target practice with Ironhide. They had migrated up to live ammunition now, which was an entirely different ballpark compared to paintball guns. At first, Sam had been nervous about shooting Ironhide with the gun, but the weapons specialist had just laughed at him and asked since when had little metal projectiles caused any damage to him? He'd lowered his blast shield, and promptly egged Sam to do his worst. Sam had to hit him a few times before he realized the weapons specialist was right, and the bullets had just bounced off harmlessly with small sparks. After that, Sam hadn't been afraid of trying his hardest to hit him.

So despite sitting crouched in the hot desert with the sun beating down on him, Sam felt great. His exercise routine was getting easier and easier, early morning runs, push ups, pull ups and crunches. He couldn't help but admire his growing muscle definition. It wasn't hulking at all, and he'd be grossed out if it ever got that big, but it definitely had an outline going there on his abs and arms. He flexed in front of the mirror, and actually grinned wide, staring at the tan that had formed on his arms. Ok, time to wear sleeveless shirts, this farmer's tan so wasn't him.

_Eat this, Mikaela._ He thought grinning, before his face heated as he thought of her again._Damn it!_ He smacked his head feeling his heart start to pound, filling his whole body with a tingling warmth. _Oh man..._teenage hormones were really gnawing at him now. He rubbed his face to try and rid his blush from it. _Focus, Witwicky, focus._ He mentally told himself, before he dressed quickly and headed downstairs.

At least he wouldn't be sweating in the desert today, it was Optimus' turn in his education. The Autobots were taking turns in his training, whenever one of them was free and not out on duty. Hound and Bumblebee were out on some kind of scouting mission right now and Ironhide had been sent to go check something out with Lennox at Nellis. So that left Sam in Optimus' care. To be honest, he was looking forward to his history lesson. There were so many questions he had about the Autobots, Cybertron, the Decepticons and the Allspark. He was looking forward to seeing some of these things through the holograms that Optimus had used to show he and Mikaela their dying world the first time they met. That stuff was better than IMAX!

He dipped his head into the fridge and grabbed some fruit, which he was quite happy to have as his daily nutrients. He'd discovered that while he wasn't hungry much anymore, he could still eat a good full meal and enjoy it without getting that feeling of being uncomfortably full. He just need to eat for a few days after that. "Going out, Sam?" His father's voice came from the kitchen table where he was reading the morning paper. "Back for dinner?"

"Probably not." Sam admitted, stopping beside his Dad to shove the fruit in his backpack. "I'll be back later, after dark probably."

"Ok, well.." Ron glanced out the window at the idling semi-truck. "I'd say drive safely but I guess that isn't an issue anymore, is it?"

Sam grinned widely. "Tell mom that. I think she nearly burst a brain cell when Optimus honked earlier."

"She'll get used to it, just give her time." Ron said calmly, lifting his paper up calmly and returning to the article he'd been reading.

"Later Dad." Sam jogged out the front door and walked across the grass towards the large flame painted red and blue vehicle waiting for him. The door opened invitingly as he slid in without hesitation. "Morning, Optimus." He greeted, relaxing back calmly, enjoying the roomy comfort of the large interior cab, the smell of lilac still prominent inside after the twins little air freshener incident.

"Good morning, Sam. Did you sleep well?"

"Yup. Great, in fact." Sam said cheerily. "How about you, um, recharge well?"

"Yes, thank you Sam." The reply was calm and collected as always.

"Really? I heard that you guys had a lot of clean-up after Wheeljack's little incident."

"Ah.." Optimus sighed as he shifted gears backing out the ally carefully, as being a very large semi in a residential neighborhood had it's disadvantages. "Yes there was quite a bit of reconstruction to be done, fortunately the ones responsible did most of the work."

Sam grinned. Man, he would have given anything to see Sideswipe, Sunstreaker and Wheeljack being given a stern talking to for blowing up half the base. At least no one had been hurt. "I have a feeling this is going to be a common thing."

"Yes, unfortunately." Optimus sighed. "I have Ironhide demanding a brig be built ASAP."

"Oh boy."

"I admit the idea is not appealing. There are still so few of us, the idea of confining our own soldiers is rather disquieting."

"Well at least you're not keeping the cop around anymore." Sam pointed out cheerfully. "I mean, I can't say I'm happy knowing he's prowling around out there somewhere. I mean, I know the government is keeping tabs on him and you guys are still tracking him, but it's weird you know?" He mused thoughtfully. "We never really found out what he wanted with me." He paused. "Who'd he pick to team up with anyway? I know you said he'd chosen someone that he'd personally selected…"

"I believe he sorted through several available agents with top government clearance before selecting on a particular agent that you might know."

Sam blinked and frowned. "Huh? What he wouldn't pick Lennox would he?"

"No…" Optimus' voice sounded odd, as if he were trying to avoid laughing as well as sounding a bit irritated. "A man by the name of Reginald Simmons."

Sam almost choked right then and there. "Simmons…?! That… that freaky guy from Sector 7? No way, you've got to be kidding me!"

"Not at all. I believe out of all the selections he found Simmons to be the most trained and experienced, plus he knew about our existence so he was less likely to 'freak out' as you say."

Sam just stared in shock at the dashboard, before a slow grin spread over his face. "Does he even know what he's gotten himself into?"

"I sincerely doubt it, Sam."

"Oh boy, I can't WAIT to hear how they get along. I mean…. I think Simmons is in for the worst of it, after all Barricade had that little freaky thing with him…"

"Frenzy."

"Yeah him." Sam wrinkled his nose. "He IS dead right? They really killed him back in Sector 7?"

"As I heard, his remains were locked up within a government facility, devoid of life. So yes."

"Good." Sam muttered. "Cause if I ever see him again, I swear Mikaela won't be the only one taking a hacksaw to him." Optimus only let out a small dry chuckle as they sped up on the freeway, heading back towards base. "So what're we going to study today, Optimus?" Sam asked, sticking his elbows on his knees and staring out the wide front windows of the semi.

"I have several things in mind to go over with you, Sam." Optimus said calmly. "I thought perhaps you might have some questions you might wish to ask first before we begin."

"Oh man." Sam said sighing. "I don't know where to even start. I think we'd better leave that for the last part."

"Very well."

Optimus took him back to the base, simply as it was the best place for them to walk around freely without concerns of being observed. They didn't go into a building however, but roamed about the open tarmac and spaces between buildings, as Optimus walked slowly with Sam on his shoulder in the usual spot next to one of his smokestacks. He started out by telling Sam some basic history about how it was theorized that their race came into existence. No one knew for certain, but some surmised that they had been given life by the Allspark's benevolent will, or some being had used it to create their race for an unknown reason, or that they simply had evolved from creations spawned from elsewhere, adapting and becoming their own race through time. He told him about how their race had adapted, built cities and created life for themselves. Then the first war began after a group calling themselves the Decepticons tried to wrest control of the city, and a civil war broke out between their two factions. This was the first taste of strife and battle that their people had ever encountered. But in the end, the Decepticons were fewer than the vast forces of those who rose to fight them, and after ages the war had ended with the Decepticons retreating, and Alpha Trion their current leader had rebuilt the city using the power of the Allspark. After that their people saw peace again for ages, building their world into a glorious golden empire of stability and success. It was during this age that Optimus and most of the others had been created.

Then Optimus told him about the second war. Sam listened intently as Optimus switched from story-teller mode to visualization mode. Sam was completely immersed in the beautiful sights of pre-war Cybertron, of a young Optimus Prime taking office, and familiar and unfamiliar faces alike as the story wove before his eyes. Megatron's rise to power, the beginning of the war, the fall of the Autobots and the destruction of their beautiful city and planet sprung before him in complete 3-D environments, complete with the feeling of wind, explosions and fire, as if he were truly there in the midst of the battle watching it all. Sam winced in pain as unexpectedly at one point he realized the mech that was laying wounded before him was his very own friend, vocal processors sparking after having just been crushed by Megatron himself. So much war, destruction and pain. Sam hadn't even been able to grasp it before, but now surrounded by a burning dying world that had once been beautiful and mighty before his eyes, his heart ached strongly in agony at the loss. Suddenly he had a new appreciation for just what kind of burden Optimus had to hold up on his massive shoulders day in and day out. With such pain and suffering behind them, what did the Autobots have to hope for the future, especially now that the cube was gone?

Sam felt a tight pressure in his chest as they stopped their pacing to sit against a raised portion of the base overlooking the rest, backs against the wall as he drank in the last bit of the story, on how Optimus had secured as many refugees as he could and sent them safely away before leaving himself to pursue the Allspark. More were out there somewhere, wandering the stars, and hopefully eventually finding each other amidst the vastness of space. It was so much to take in, that Sam closed his eyes and shivered at the end of the tale.

"Sam?"

"I'm ok, Optimus." He re-assured the solemn leader. "It's just… I mean I knew that your war was really bad. I just never knew HOW bad it was… how many you lost… and seeing it…" He opened his eyes slowly, staring down at the spread of buildings that made up the Autobot's new base. "It's real. It happened. And it hurts."

The Autobot leader smiled gently, shaking his head slightly as regarded the young man sitting beside him. Sam had changed so much in the last few months. From a boy who had stumbled his way through a battlefield, to a young man who held himself with dignity befitting a soldier. He felt a sense of responsibility to Sam, seeing as the boy had been dragged into their war without a choice in the matter. But, seeing as Sam was not unhappy at being a part of their lives as complicated as it was, he was certain that he would do well in adapting to anything the future might bring. "Thank you, Sam for your words." Optimus said quietly. "Our two people are not so different. We sometimes forget this. Despite our technological advancements and assumptions of superiority for that reason, we still managed to destroy our own world, and kill thousands in battle which proves we are no more advanced than your own people, caught in a similar trap of battles with other nations." He sighed windily, a bit of dust puffing out of his exhaust pipes on his shoulders. "We both still have much to learn and overcome."

Sam smiled a little, draping his hands over his knees. "I guess so. I still think you guys are way ahead of us. I mean, you have awesome weapons, can travel through space, and invent cool stuff like holograms."

"All just technology, Sam." Optimus said mildly. "Your people have ventured into the abstract that was beyond our comprehension. Music, art, poetry. Such things had no place in Cybertronian life. We only finally achieved the ability to comprehend such amazing accomplishments after landing here on your planet. Our race focused on inventions, technology, science. Yours perhaps may not have advanced as far, but considering how young your species is, you have made great strides in such short time, that one can only begin to surmise where this great knowledge will eventually take you along the road of your lives. The limitations are boundless."

"Yeah." Sam said smiling as he tilted his head up to the sky, staring at the blue expanse overhead. "Boundless. I can't even begin to imagine what's in store for me the rest of my life… and it's exciting."

Optimus studied the human with kind optics, aware of the parallels to his own life. Once he had floundered for his place in the universe, now he was in the same role his own advisor had been while training him. "You have a great future ahead of you, Sam."

"Yeah." Sam mused quietly. "About that…" He glanced up at Optimus with that same expression that often had haunted the mech's own processors. One of pensive inner turmoil. "I want to try and learn how I can use this power inside of me. So far all I've done is cause a mess…"

"Ah, yes." Optimus mused. "I did not wish to bring this topic up until you were ready to approach it on your own, Sam. However, I believe you would stand to learn a great deal from harnessing the power within you."

"You think I can do it?"

"Most certainly." He agreed. "It may be difficult, but if anything you have shown an amazing capacity to adapt. Think of this merely as another step into your future."

"Bee mentioned you were the guardian of something called The Matrix." Sam spoke up with a half-grin. "I dare to think it's anything like the movie."

Optimus blinked down at the boy with a brief flash of confusion crossing his features, before he quickly referenced the name. "Ah. No, it is not anything like the Matrix you refer to."

"Thought not. So what is the Matrix?" Sam asked, with a dead serious face, only the corner of his mouth twitching as he struggled not to smile from having just quoted said movie.

If Optimus caught the reference, he didn't give anything away. "The Matrix is what we refer to as that where all life comes from."

"I thought that was the Allspark?" Sam asked confused.

"Yes, and no." Optimus explained thoughtfully. "The Allspark is a physical tool that we believe is directly connected to the Matrix, tapping it's power, it's resources and bridging life and death. The Matrix is what you might refer to as the 'afterlife' in a way. We believe that when a mech is sparked, his soul originates from the Matrix and is brought into a new body. When he dies, that soul returns to the Matrix, becoming one with it."

Sam nodded slowly, seeing there were some correlations between Cybertronian theology and Earth theology. "So the Allspark isn't the Matrix itself?"

"It is not, however it often was referred to as the Matrix of Leadership." And with that, Optimus reached up to a portion of his chest plating, and to Sam's surprise it hissed open with a vent of hydraulics to reveal a small cavity where a round ball about the size of a large globe sat within some kind of apparatus, laying protected in Optimus' chest. He removed it, and lowered it down for Sam to see. The center part looked hollow, round and with sections split so that he could see the interior was dim and dark, obviously meant to hold something roughly the size of the cube that Sam had carried in battle. "This is the Matrix of Leadership. It is used to keep the Allspark safe and hidden from those who would seek to exploit it's power. Traditionally it is passed down from Prime to Prime, as a token of respect, but also to use it's power in times of need." He lifted the apparatus back up and secured it safely back in his chest plating, then closed the compartment with a click. "Since Megatron was aware of it's location as I was it's protector, I believed at the time my only choice was to send it away from Cybertron, in hopes that it might draw the war away. I thought I would be able to find it again first, as I had the strongest connection to it, being it's guardian. It was a risky thing to do, and no doubt my predecessor would have had some stern words to share, had he still been online."

"So your duty was to protect it." Sam mused. "At least you get that chance again, even if it's a bit different." He grinned up at the mech, who smiled down kindly at him.

"Yes, Sam. You are right. No matter what form, it is part of my responsibility to see that the Allsparks' power is not misused. And for that reason, I think it is time for us to explore your control over it. The worst thing that could happen right now would be for the Decepticons to become aware of your connection and attempt to exploit that. If you are able to control the power, you can defend yourself."

Sam had a brief shudder as the mental image of the small Nokia phone snapped to his memory. "Yeah." He said quietly. He didn't want THAT part of the power, destroying life. He wondered if it came down to his life or his friends lives, would he be able to kill with it?

Optimus seemed to read his thoughts, and spoke up quietly. "Sam. This power is an enormous responsibility. The decisions on how and when to use it will not be easy. I do not wish you to force yourself to do anything you feel uncomfortable with. We will take this slow, and give you time to adapt on your own. But you must realize, that when it comes down to the line, you cannot hesitate to make your decision. A second's pause can mean life or death in battle."

"I know." Sam said quietly. "It's just so difficult. What if I make the wrong decision."

"There will come a time when you do." Optimus said gently. "No being is perfect. We all make mistakes, even myself. The difference between a warrior and a fool is that a warrior learns from his mistakes and does not let them rule his guilt, but lets them guide his wisdom."

Sam smiled softly, the words helping him come to grasp his place in this whole mess. Optimus was a leader for a reason, and it wasn't because he was the largest Autobot on Earth. He was smart, and experienced. "I understand. I'll try not to make TOO many mistakes though…"

"A sound plan. Now, if you are ready perhaps we can see about giving you some control over the power within you."

"Right." Sam took a deep breath to calm himself, but oddly realized he wasn't very frightened of what they were going to attempt, but rather hopeful. "I'm ready."

"Very well. First, I would like you to attempt a connection yourself. I realize that you have managed to do this previously, but as I have not experienced the phenomena, I also would like time to analyze the process."

"You're sure it's safe?" Sam asked nervously. The last thing he wanted to do was zap the leader and put him out of commission.

"Yes, Sam." Optimus said solemnly. "I can protect myself against any unwelcome surges. Unless you attempt to do something deliberately, you can be assured nothing ill will come of our attempt."

"Ok…" Sam said nervously, then shifted to reach out and place his hand on Optimus' large hand placed on the ground before him. The moment he touched the warm metal, he could feel the familiar tingle of life, the connection shared between them. It had been the same with Bee, a familiar buzzing in the back of his head that told him 'yes you can do this'. Sam focused on that feeling, letting his eyes close as he followed the strange vibration in his head, trying to figure out how to trigger it. He had done it before… he could do it again.

Abruptly he figured it out. It was almost like the first time you learn to ride a bike. You wobble a little, but then you get the pacing down, and find it's easier than you thought once you figure out how to do it. With that realization, he suddenly could feel the other presence connected to him. It was entirely different from when he'd linked with Bee. This presence was powerful, supportive and all-encompassing, like the protective hand of a father on his shoulder.

_Good, Sam._ The mental voice spoke to him loudly through his head, warm and confidant. _You achieved that quickly._

_Thanks._ He thought back, head spinning a little, but feeling a warm sense of pride flow through him.

_Now, I want you to focus on that which you followed here. Do not think hard or frantically, just attempt to trace it._

_Ok._ Sam thought, feeling calmed by Optimus' reassuring presence. He could do this. He could feel the guiding hands steering him along as he let himself relax, and tried to follow the tingling feeling to it's source. With Optimus' guidance, he soon found what he'd been fighting so hard to avoid for the last several months. If he could have placed an image to it, he might have compared it to an enormous generator room, with one turbine stretching as high as he could look up, and as far as he could see down, crackling with blue-white electricity that snapped along the turbine as if it were a live power line. It was enormous, sitting there dormant for the moment, with only flashes of light running up and down it's metal hull that was clearly marked in the same symbols that had decorated the cube's exterior. Sam felt a sense of awe filling through him as he visualized it, realizing with some shock that this massive source of energy was within his own body and soul. _Wow._ He thought aloud, unable to think much further than that.

_Indeed._ Came the reassuring voice of Optimus. _Your visualization of the Allspark is very befitting of it's endless potential, Sam._

_And it's just sitting here quietly inside me like this?_

_For the moment, yes. You have not yet pulled forth it's true power. It still lays regenerating it's own life within you._

_What would happen if I woke it up?_

_I cannot say for certain. It would depend on your intent. However I do not believe you are ready for such an immediate withdrawal of power. There is little telling what such direct energy would do to your body and mind. This is why we must proceed cautiously. _

_No kidding._

_Now retreat slowly, Sam and we will attempt some manipulation of it's power._

Sam relaxed and felt his consciousness pull away from that which he'd realized was the very core of his being. It felt strange, seeing such enormous capability dormant within him, and scared him a little. Optimus was right, what if the Decepticons found out about him and attempted to extract that power? He shuddered to think of it. No wonder he needed to learn to control it. He opened his eyes, still feeling the supportive presence reminding him that they were linked.

_Now what?_ He thought, wondering what Optimus would have him do.

_Now, we work on what you already possess._ The reply came simply. _We will not attempt any new manipulation until you have mastered your current abilities._

_What you mean like, short-circuiting processors?_ Sam thought wryly.

_No, I mean communications and regenerative capabilities. You seem to have maintained a steady hold on direct communications, now I wish to experiment with wireless transmissions._

_Oh! _Sam blinked with a small grin on his face as he realized what that meant. Right, he'd talked to the others when they'd been on their way to Earth. If he could have an Autobot type communications channel, that would really save on his cell phone bill.

_First, I want you to concentrate on the feel of this connection we share, memorize it's patterns. You must be able to identify with whom you are attempting to communicate._

_Right. _Sam did as much as he could to try and remember how the sensation was. He knew it was very different from Bumblebee's, but how to remember that 'feeling' without putting a name or picture to it was harder. Finally he released his hand from Optimus' own, and broke contact, taking a deep breath as the familiar sensation of disconnection swept over him. He glanced up as Optimus' own optics came back online and flickered at him expectantly. "Ok. I think I got it…"

"Excellent job, Sam. You are proceeding admirably." The mech complimented warmly.

"Yeah well now comes the hard part." Sam muttered.

For the next several hours, he tried to figure out just how he'd managed to connect with the others. He tried everything from thinking loudly to reaching for the power without physically connecting to Optimus. He wasn't having very much luck, and it was rather exhausting. He could feel the power there, stirring under his grasp, just out of reach. Every time he thought he was close, it would slip away. He let his head fall back and hit the wall with some frustration. "Man, this is worse than training with Ironhide. At least there I can blow off some steam."

Optimus looked suddenly thoughtful. "Indeed. Perhaps that might help."

"Huh?"

"Sam, I want you to attempt something." Optimus offered, pointing over to one of the nearby boulders that littered the exterior of the cavern. "I recall that when you were frustrated with Barricade, you initiated a burst of energy. Perhaps if you attempted it again, you might feel the flow of it's source."

Sam blinked and eyed the offending boulder. It made sense. "You're sure it won't backfire and hurt you?" He asked frowning up at the mech worriedly. "I don't want something bad to happen."

"Do not be concerned, Sam. I will place safety protocols in place, and you should be distant enough not to reach me. However, I would warn you not to place too much strength behind it. Just attempt a minimal amount."

"Right…minimal." Sam said with a deep breath, and slowly got to his feet and walked the twenty feet over to the boulder. It was only about as big as he was if he were to crouch down into a hunch, not that intimidating, but the idea of actually striking out and using his power like a weapon made him a bit squeamish. Yet, he knew that this was one of the things he had to learn to do, and what better to practice on than a stupid rock. He took another deep breath and placed both hands down on the rock, and steadied himself, then tried to imagine something angry and frustrating that might trigger such a reaction.

It didn't take long, amazingly enough. All he had to do was imagine the sight of Bumblebee strapped helpless on the table in the Sector 7 laboratories, and his anger flooded to the surface. With a sudden flash of heat, he could feel the energy surging up from somewhere deep within him and out through his hands in one blinding flash of light that had him squeezing his eyes shut quickly the moment a very loud vibration of sound exploded out from around him, like a jet passing at supersonic speeds. It shook the wall nearby, sending sprays of sand and pebbles down, and he could feel a brush of wind rippling past his arms and face. The heat was gone as swiftly as it had come with his change from anger to surprise, and he cracked his eyes open slowly to see the damage.

The boulder had turned to sand beneath him, and he was on his hands and knees, blue light crackling around his hands like wild electricity, the same burning sensation crawling up and down his spine and itching at his fingertips. He slowly sat up, and quickly risked a glance over to Optimus, who was no longer sitting, but in a protective crouch, watching him with some surprise in his optics. "Well done, Sam. That was impressive." The leader commented finally, optics flickering down to the mass of sand beneath the humans fingers. "You achieved that quicker than I expected."

"Yeah." Sam said quietly. "I don't think in a good way." He felt sick suddenly, realizing that in most other situations, using your anger to lash out was considered bad. On the other hand, he knew what that white-hot feeling was within him, that sense of power becoming at his call and discharging. This time, his hands didn't burn quite as badly, and he turned them over warily watching the rivets of energy trace over the grayish lines that had appeared on his hands again, and were slowly fading away. "It wasn't so bad this time." He said. "I don't feel faint." He glanced up at Optimus hopefully. "That's good right?"

"Sam, I think with proper practice, you soon will learn not to fear your gifts." Optimus said encouragingly. "The weight of responsibility can be heavy at times, but there is no reason you must bear it alone. I must urge however, that you only practice when around one of us. There is no knowing whether these bursts of energy you give off can be traced, and if we are not careful, we could attract the very attention we are hoping to avoid."

Sam's eyebrow twitched as a sudden image sprung to mind. A big red arrow lit up in the middle of the desert with an "AUTOBOT BASE HERE, COME ON IN" sign flashing for the whole universe to see. His shoulders hunched. "Yeah. Good idea, big guy. Good idea."

"Optimus!" A voice called out from the buildings below, and they both glanced up in time to see Ironhide jogging towards them, dust clinging to his chassis, a dead giveaway he'd just arrived. "We've got a development."

Instantly the leader was on his feet. "What kind of development?" he asked quickly, as Sam scrambled to join the two, staring up curiously as Ironhide completely ignored the small human for the moment.

"Lennox just received a call from one of his team." The weapons specialist reported. "It seems that they have found something buried in the Antarctic ice." His optics flickered down to Sam. "It appears to be another of our kind."

Sam groaned. "Just HOW many of you are we going to find as ice cubes?!" Pause. "Please don't tell me Megatron has a twin!"


	26. Interlude 12: Tech Sergeant Robert Epps

**How it Is**  
**Interlude 12: Technical Sergeant Robert Epps **  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Antarctica. Cold, desolate and bleak. White and blue merged smoothly on the horizon with jagged ridges of mountains in the distance.

Tech Sgt. Robert Epps sighed, and tugged the hood of his parka closer, pulling his warm wool ski cap down to cover his shaved head. Ok, as much as he hated the desert, he hated ice worse. He swore by the time he got back he'd never complain about how hot it was at Edwards again. He glanced out the window of the C-130 Hercules and stared down at the sunlit airstrip of McMurdo Station stretching out beneath him. Now he could officially say he'd been to every continent in the world.

Cool. No wait, correction… Cold.

Too damn cold. Damn Fig for getting out of this one on account of his injury. Too risky to 'slip' on the ice, he said. Wiseass.

It was actually late summer down here, which was good for landing. Apparently he didn't want to be here in the winter. Course' he didn't wanna be here now. The endless ice and snow seemed bleak among the glimpses of ground. He could see the airstrip coming up as they pulled in for a landing, the ground clear of ice and snow which made the landing easier, though Epps admitted he had been curious to find out how those ski things worked on the plane. Nonetheless, he got up as they taxied to a stop, and jogged down the stairs once he was given clearance to exit the plane. He was greeted at the bottom by three people.

"Tech Sergeant." The first man said, saluting to him. Epps stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and returned the salute smartly. "Welcome to McMurdo Station."

"Thank you sir." Epps said, purposely not adding that he was glad to be here. It was frigid with a stiff wind blowing at his neck. He hated it already.

"Colonel Danson." The man said, nodding once and gesturing for him to follow as he turned heading back towards the row of bunkers and buildings off the airstrip. "This is Ellen Ryan and Clyde Thompson." He nodded to the two walking beside him. "Chief researchers in charge of the project."

Epps nodded to them, a younger woman with dark hair and a tall thin man with a thick beard. "I wasn't given much on the details, sir. What project are we talking about?"

"Ice extraction." Ellen spoke up. "We're doing analysis of samples in the shelf, dating analysis, oxygen concentration, working on studying the effects of global warming."

Epps nodded, immediately uninterested. Global warming, whatever. There was a reason he wasn't a scientist. "So you found something interesting?"

"Very interesting, Sergeant." Danson spoke up in a low voice. "We'll talk inside."

Epps was quite glad to enter the building, the warmth immediately making his face tingle as he unzipped the parka. It was bare and simple, with heat fans running full blast. There were several people milling about at various rows of computers as they made their way towards the back, through some doors into a more office-like space. Down a few hallways past various military personnel's offices, they entered a conference room where Colonel Danson removed his parka and the others did the same as they all sat down at the table, the door locked behind them.

"Well Sergeant…" Danson said finally, his pepper gray hair short and neat, with a slight moustache under his nose. "…let me tell you, I've been in the Air Force for a long time… I've seen just about every plane out there." He reached over, and slid a manila folder across the table to Epps. "And I haven't ever seen anything like this. They said you were a specialist, but I'm not sure what more you can tell us. This aircraft isn't like anything I've ever seen before."

Epps felt that tight feeling grasp at his gut again. "So it is an aircraft, sir?"

"Yes, far as we can tell. Sonar has some images of it." He pointed at the folder.

Epps slid it open and studied the report. The first page was information on the official findings, but wasn't that helpful. He gave a low whistle at the specs though. This thing was BIG. He flipped the page and frowned as he studied a few of the pictures. It was hard to tell what was what, the thing was solidly encased in ice. He couldn't make out any particulars until he glanced at the sonar and finally figured out it's outline. Then, his heart clenched in fear. It was frightening how similar this thing looked. He'd only seen glimpses of that big badass mofo during the battle of Mission City, but one glance told him that the make and model was very similar.

Only this one was bigger.

It had a clearly different design, but the likeness was striking. He leaned forward, eyes carefully scanning the pictures for any sign, any at all, of WHAT it was… friendly, or not. But there was no way of telling. He sat back with a sigh.

"You seen one of these before?" Danson asked, watching Epps face carefully.

He glanced up, his brown eyes meeting the mans gray. "Yes, sir." He said quietly. "I have."

He exchanged a knowing glance with the Colonel, who nodded at his questioning gaze.

"They have priority clearance."

"Yes, sir." Epps said solemnly. "They'll need it."

* * *

Epps was given a bunk to spend the night in, ate a full meal, with the knowledge that they were setting out into the Antarctic the following day. It was a good day's travel by snowmobile to the find, somewhere in the middle of the ice shelf. The reason they'd found it when they did was the recent shifts in global warming had cracked the shelf in that area. They'd been doing some core samples and run into something much harder than ice, and done some investigating. By now, most of the science crew knew they'd found something big and metal buried there, but it was up to Epps and Danson to determine who they let in on what exactly it was. Epps was glad that wasn't HIS decision.

The trip across the ice shelf proved as miserable as he'd anticipated. It was cold, windy and made worse by the fact they were skimming over the ice shelf at high speeds. In any other situation, Epps might actually be having a bit of fun. He loved to ski-jet, but the glaring sunshine gave him a headache as it reflected against the ice and snow, the wind biting at his exposed skin. Cheeks hidden under a scarf as they zipped along. It had a certain beauty to it, in that glacial way. Still, he was glad when their pace slowed and they pulled up along side a few heavy duty trailers staked to the ice. They dismounted and Epps was led to the side of the first trailer, where a large yellow tarp was tacked over a sloping ice cave that had been burrowed out of the ground.

"Watch your head." Ellen suggested, as she took the lead, stooping a bit as she started down the narrow tunnel. Some lights had been strung down the top illuminating their path as they walked down the tunnel. "Took us weeks to dig this far down." She said as she led the way. "But I'll tell you, it sure was worth it."

And with that, the narrow cave opened up into a larger room where they could stand freely, the size of a large conference room… and that's where he saw it.

It was even bigger than he'd thought.

The ice here was very very clear. It faded to an frosty blue further back, but even so they could see most of the object's mass through the ice.

That mofo was huge!

"They won't tell us what it is, but we have some ideas." Ellen said, crossing her arms as she stared at it. "Besides, the ice core samples tell the story without it."

"You can date it?" Epps asked, slowly walking towards the opposite wall where they had cleared ice away from some of the object. It was still coated in frost and flakes of ice, but the metal was clearly visible.

"Yeah." Ellen said softly. "The ice dates at over a million."

Epps blinked. "A million years old?"

"Older than that." She said smiling. "Far before humans had ever invented metal, let alone vehicles." She glanced over at him, her eyes knowing as he returned the gaze. "And then they call in some specialist with top secret clearance." She shook her head. "I just hope I get to do some analysis on this thing."

Epps ignored her. He wasn't interested in what scientists wanted. His job was to find out what they were dealing with. The scientists could fight it out later. He walked up to the wall again, and hesitantly put his gloved hand on the metal poking out of the ice. It didn't seem anything extraordinary, just the tip of a wing. But as he stared intently at it, he knew it was of a design and alloy totally unlike anything this world used in it's aircraft. He brushed some ice away, but didn't learn much else. The thing was too far buried for him to make out anything.

He had the feeling he was going to be here a while.

Epps wasn't mistaken. The order came the next day that they were to uncover the item. Epps had questioned whether this was a smart idea or not, given that as to date all the flying NBE's that he'd seen had been hostile. Lennox had relayed to him that the Big Guy, their name for the alien leader, said there had been non-hostile fliers in their ranks, and if this one had truly been here for as long as the ice claimed he had, then he might have no knowledge of the ongoing war between the factions. If this was the case, he might not be hostile IF he was still alive. But could even an alien species survive for over a million years, frozen in ice?

Epps didn't know. But it was his job to help oversee the extraction, and stand ready in case it woke up. Of all those there, he was the only one who knew stuff about them, stuff that he could pass on, questions that could be answered.

Plus, he knew how to kill them.

It had been a quiet order. If the alien turned hostile and so much as harmed one human, he was to blast it right in it's chest cavity, where something called a spark casing was. A couple high-yield shots should do it. He had the large sabot-round loaded gun safely strapped to his side, as did five more soldiers, three stationed outside, two inside.

The extraction was slow. First off, getting the personnel out here was tricky enough. Luckily, most of the science crews were still stationed down here at this time of year, so they had been diverted to assist. Military staff had been shipped in via the USCG Polar Star, docked at McMurdo, having shuttled the needed staff down from a carrier in warmer waters. But even with added crew hacking away at the ice, carting away what they could, they had barely scratched the surface. So far, only the full extent of one wing and part of the upper portion had been extracted. The form was becoming clearer, and the more he saw of it, the more it reminded him how dangerous and deadly these things were. But as of yet, there had been no motion, no energy spikes, nothing to indicate this thing was alive.

But then, Epps knew better. These things were smart.

At the moment, it couldn't hurt a thing, he thought bitterly, staring at it as he finished climbing down one of the ladders attached to the ice shelf around the thing. They'd hollowed out the area, allowing the sun to beat down through the white camouflage tarp spread over the top. The thing was still solidly encased, however. It wasn't going anywhere.

He walked along the scaffolding to the bottom of the pit, staring down at it as the crews worked chipping and hacking away. He knelt down beside what they had unanimously decided was the nose of the craft. It was pointed straight down, as if it had crashed into the ice and been unable to move after that. It seemed damaged, they had come to realize. One wing had a massive rip in it, with a strange cloudy blue substance in the ice around it, that appeared to be fluid from the craft itself. There were no obvious score marks that might indicate a battle, but there were several indentations and solid dents on the wings that they could see, mostly on the front of the wings, possibly indicating it had run through either a meteor storm or ice storm. Beyond that, it was a mystery what had happened to it.

He liked to come down here when he was off-duty, just to stare at the thing, like he was now. Everyone was stopped for the night, most of them asleep, but he hadn't been able to sleep well since he'd been here, knowing that thing could wake up at any moment. He'd been sure to tell them to keep as much ice around it's body as possible, so they kept it's temperature constant so it might not wake up. But he knew that even the ice picks and vibrations might rouse it's consciousness, if it still existed. Still, it was eerie standing here in complete silence, the illumination of the lamps dim as he flipped the switch, and stood in front of it's nose, staring up at it. It was warmer down here than up on the surface, since no wind reached down into the pit, and the ice insulated against the clear chill of the Antarctic night.

It still unnerved him, being around it. These things were deadly killing machines, had taken out his own teammates, and innocently crushed buildings and people simply by 'accident'. He dreaded to think what would happen if they purposely attacked the humans, like that friggin' copter had at the base… Slaughtered hundreds by itself without a single shred of damage to show for it.

Yeah, Epps hated these things.

He stared up at the alien craft, his breath frosting in the dim lights strung overhead as he stared at the silent silver form. He shuddered despite himself, fingering the reassuring presence of the gun strapped over his back. "Man…must be nuts." He muttered to himself, frowning up at the thing. It didn't reply, silent as ever. Epps sat down on one of the crates housing some of the equipment, and stomped his feet as he stared up at it. No matter how much Lennox told him of his experiences, Epps still wouldn't get it. These things had taken out buildings without meaning to, crushed humans like bugs, and caused so much death by bringing their war to an innocent planet. Why were they stuck in the middle of this? They hadn't provoked anyone, they hadn't even done anything to grab these aliens' attention. Suddenly, one day they'd just landed in their laps, caused a bunch of trouble, and now had the whole military defense on alert against an enemy they barely understood.

It wasn't fair.

He could handle defending his country against things that were equal to him, had machinery comparable, men trained the same, using the same shit they had… But how could they compete against homicidal alien robots that probably saw them as lower life forms?

Epps sighed and stood up. _Man, you're starting to go nuts down here._ He wasn't even sure why he'd come down here, the thing just was stirring his anger. He shook his head and turned to return back to the warmth of the trailer.

That's when he heard it.

The pit was so silent, the sound echoed loudly in it despite the fact that it had been just as quiet as a breath or a groan. A digital frequency that didn't belong down here. There was no electronic equipment to make a sound like that.

Epps whirled around, gun immediately in hand as he turned to face the lump of ice, eyes narrow as he held his breath, certain of what he'd heard. That THING had made a damn sound, he knew it.

There was no motion from it, however.

Epps didn't back down, instead he took a few slow steps forward and stood about where he assumed it's front was, and stood there. "I heard you." He said finally. "You're not foolin' anyone."

There was empty silence, before another digital burst of static filled the pit, soft and crackling, muffled by the ice surrounding it. Epps' grip on the gun tightened, but he didn't engage a hostile position yet. So far, it hadn't moved, just let him know it was awake. He couldn't see any lights or indications of it's awareness, but there was a very low hum that he began to become aware of, and he could feel the ice beneath his boots vibrating slightly. It was very faint, but enough to draw his attention. It was awake.

"All right." Epps said taking a deep breath. _Calm down, Rob… You're trained to negotiate with it, start there_. "Let's see what you do." He had instructions to follow in case this happened… and despite his instinct to blow the effin' thing away, he was going to follow those orders. He lowered the gun slowly, but kept it handy in one hand, lifting his other slowly to his left front parka's pocket, and pulling out a small handheld device. He held it up, as if to say that it wasn't a weapon, then turned it on. "Ok… here's the deal." He said aloud. "I know you don't understand a word of what I'm sayin' so this here's loaded with the latest and greatest 'How to speak English for Big Ass Alien Robots.' I just hope you can figure out how to get into it." He held the thing up, waving it slowly, holding it out in a clearly offering position towards the craft. For a long time, nothing happened. Then Epps heard a small beep from the device in his hand, and turned it towards him. As he watched, the screen began to flash through various pages of the tutorial, faster than he could see. The alien was downloading the information wirelessly, just like they'd told him it would. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Ok, so far so good. It hadn't powered up weapons, or done anything aggressive. All it took was one move and he would be on the radio in a heartbeat. But so far the alien seemed complacent. The blackberry beeped, indicating the end of the documents, and Epps lowered it, facing the craft as he waited to see what it would do next.

Softly, in a static filled crackled and glitching voice that made the ice rumble vibrate slightly under his feet, it spoke.

"….i-iden---tify…."

Epps let out a slow breath. The voice was deep rumbling and emotionless, but it still scared the crap out of him. "Tech Sergeant Robert Epps, United States Air Force." He said firmly.

"…w-where….am-m-m I…?"

"You're on a planet called Earth." He said, his heart pounding despite his calm exterior. _Man oh man this is some rush… _His hands felt sweaty in his gloves. This was the first time he'd actually interacted directly with one of these things. Before he'd mostly he'd been staring and running. "Southern pole area. How did you get here?"

"…c-crash…dist---ortion …::fszzzt:: blocked-d-d…. Sen---sors….d-d-d-dis---oriented….hit s-s-surface, o-overl---oad….stasis-lock imp-p-plemented."

Epps thought that over. It meshed with what he'd thought happened. The alien had crashed and been unable to free itself, just like that other one had. "How long you been here?"

"…unk-k-known. C-c-chronom-m-meter… dam--aged."

Epps frowned. Well that answered one question. "You're damaged? Know how bad?"

"…energy r-r-reserves low… t-ten ::fzzt:: percent available…s-systems af-f-f-fected….sub-freezing t-t-temperatures aff-f-fecting all sys-s---tems… s-s-significant dam---age to ex-x-xterior hull pla---ting, int-t-t-ternal workings com---promised. Es-s-stimated stasis-lock in fi---ve ….**::screech::**"

Epps winced at the last word. It had been in that warbling tonal language of theirs. Apparently it had no translation. The thing seemed to be in bad shape, from what it sounded. The fact that it had woken up at all was impressive. "All right well we're working on getting you out. But there's one thing I gotta know first. Whose side you on?"

"…d-d-does not com---pute…ple---ase c-c-c-clarify."

Epps lifted an eyebrow. Please eh? At least it was polite. "Are you one of the… uh, the Autobots, or the Decepticons?"

There was a pause, then the voice replied again, this time clearly confused. "…does not c-c-compute… f-f-factions ob---solete."

"Obsolete, eh… yeah thought you'd say that." Epps muttered. So it seemed their visitor had no idea what was going on… which meant maybe, just maybe, they weren't so screwed after all. "Ok… here's the deal. We're getting you out, but I gotta tell you that if you harm any humans, or try to escape on your own, we will attack." He said firmly. "We have no intention on harming you if you remain peaceful. We'll help you out as long as you surrender peacefully."

There was a pause. "…t-t-terms acce---ptable. I will n-n-n-not re---sist…"

Epps sighed in relief. "Good." Now, he needed some info. "Is there any danger to your uh.. systems?"

"….aff-f-f-firma---tive." The answer came. "S-s-significant da---mage to ::fzzt:: wing j-j-joint. En---ergon leak… ex-x-x-xposure to environ---ment not ad-d-dvised."

Epps slowly walked around to the area that he figured the thing meant. It was the cloudy blue area by the wing, where the damage was. "Ok… we'll make sure not to defrost that part yet, then. Anything else?"

"N-n-negative. No oth---er crit-t-tical sys---tems that can---not ::fzzt:: be r-r-repaired in time."

"Right." Epps said, studying the thing intently. "You self-repair, right?"

"Affirma---tive."

"Most of your systems will self-repair on their own if removed from the ice?"

"Aff-f-firmative. Ex-x-xception: wing joint re---quires medic a-t-t-ttention."

Epps frowned. Ok, that wasn't a good sign. If they got him out of the ice, that wing joint was going to be exposed eventually. And he knew that there was no way they could get it out of here without clearing off all the ice. In addition, no medic who could work on that thing was available, so it was up to him to find a solution. "Any way we can patch you up long enough to move you and get you off this continent?"

"Unk-k-known…do not ::fzzt::… know cap---abilities…." The voice seemed less coherent again, and Epps had a feeling it was about to laps back into unconsciousness, or stasis-lock as it called it.

"All right, you go rest up then, recharge, whatever… we'll work on a solution. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Aff-f-f-firma---tive…" And with that, the vibrations in the pit died down again, until they stopped. It had lapsed back into stasis-lock.

Epps didn't release his hold on the gun, just in case, but there was no further reply from the alien, so he quietly hit the radio's alert button, backing off a bit. "Team, report for duty." He announced. "We got a live one here."


	27. Chapter 15: Mobilization

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 15: Mobilization**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

_Author's note: Small edit. I added times since the next several chapers promise to be confusing as I'm going to do a bit of time jumping around._

* * *

**Tuesday - Nellis Air Force Base, NV - 11am PST**_  
_

_Can you please enlighten me as to why we're doing this again?_

_Don't ask me. I just follow orders._

_Don't you ever think for yourself?_

_Hey! Can it, thruster-aft._

_Keep it down already, my processor can't take much more screeching._

_Blame Screamer for that. Besides, who else am supposed to talk to, huh? This planet is boring. Are you SURE I can't go squish a few of those bugs?_

_We're supposed to be keeping a low profile._

_But look at them. They're just running around like little insecticons, begging to be stomped on! Biologicals, ick._

_Sigh. Just sit tight. We're supposed to be observing and waiting. _

_I'm so slaggin' bored._

If he could have rolled his optics in jet form, Thundercracker would have. His partner was beginning to annoy the scrap out of him. If it weren't for the multitude of patience in dealing with his trigger happy wing mate, he would have shot him long ago to be rid of the babbling. They had been sitting on this stupid air force base under-cover for a whole week now, and they were closer to learning how fast weeds grew than tapping into any secret communications from the Autobots. Why hadn't Starscream sent Soundwave to do this? Oh, right. He had a 'special' mission for the communications officer. Whatever that was. So instead of soaring the skies over the blue planet, they were sitting on a tarmac. Starscreams' logic was that he himself was too noticeable and too valuable to risk in a high-traffic area, and the military was expecting to see him again. Thundercracker had asked the obvious question, why not change his tail numbers? He'd gotten a scathing glare in response and told to just follow orders. So that's why the two seekers were stuck here waiting, still in their basic trans-scan modes, without having even taken alternate paint colors. Thundercraker hated silver. It was so... flat. The moment they were done, he was initiating the new paint colors he'd chosen, and he knew Skywarp was eager to do the same.

_Thundercracker, any updates?_ The sudden burst of comm. traffic brought them both to attention.

_Nothing. What the slag are we waiting for, 'Screamer?_

_That's LORD Starscream, Thundercracker._ Came the scathing reply. _I'd remind you to use my proper title._

Thundercracker sighed. Primus, not again. _Yes, LORD Starscream. _When was that moron going to ever pull his head out of his aft?

_You are waiting for my signal, which I am about to give. We have visitors arriving._

_More Decepticons?_ Skywarp was quick to ask, an eager tone of excitement over his transmission.

_Naturally. We cannot attack without ground support. We have an entire team incoming._

_Excellent._ Thundercracker said, relieved. It was a bout fraggin' time. _Who?_

_Scrapper, Scavanger, Mixmaster Longhaul and Hook._

_Great!_ _The Constructicons!_ Skywap sent. _What about Bonecrusher?_

_You moron, he was taken out by Prime over a month ago._

_Oh... frag... so much for Devastator then._

_Devastator_. Starscream snorted. _It would have been nice. Brawl was an idiot, taking that name... Unfortunately, with one short we have to make do. I want you to meet me at the following co-ordinates. Have some fun while you're at it._ Came the dark gleeful response. _We will need that facility for my plan. Try to do it quick, we don't want any unnecessary attention. _

_What about you?_

_I have something I need to investigate first._ Oddly, Starscream's tone sounded rather thoughtful. _I will meet you there at a later date. Enjoy yourselves in the meantime. Permission to squish the fleshies granted._

The two grounded seekers exchanged mental smirks with each other, before to the surprise of the humans around them, the two F-22's started up their engines in tandem, rolled down the runway with identical pilots in place, ignoring all communications, and bolted into the air. Within seconds both were gone, with only a rippling sonic boom in their wake.

* * *

**Tuesday - Los Angeles, CA - 11am PST**

"What's taking you so fraggin' long?"

"All right, all right, hold your horses." Simmons barked back, making quite a scene on the street as he snapped back at the apparently unoccupied black Saleen behind him.

"Whip cream with that sir?" The attendant said without pause.

"No." Simmons sighed and handed over the cash then walked back to the waiting vehicle, shooting it a dangerous look. "You know, keeping a low profile includes not randomly deciding to speak up in a crowded area."

"Bite me." Barricade growled, opening a door as the tall man slid into the passenger seat with his frappucino. "And if you spill that, I will personally see that you cannot procreate."

Simmons grit his teeth. Good grief, he wasn't being paid enough to put up with this. It had taken him long enough to simply adjust to the idea of being shuttled around in a sentient vehicle, let alone actually sharing information with it. He still said these things deserved to be studied intently under a high-powered microscope. "What did you find out?" He asked, trying to switch the subject before his life could be further threatened by the former Decepticon. Despite having proclaimed he would never re-join his allies, he still had a bad attitude and desire for random violence. It was all Simmons could do to keep him in line from playing pinball with other cars on the road.

"I traced the signal to this general area in Los Angeles." Barricade admitted grudgingly. "But it is being reflected off an unknown source so I cannot pinpoint it's precise origin."

"You figure out what the signal is yet?"

Barricade was silent for a moment. He knew he was supposed to co-operate with this annoying flesh creature, but this signal was slowly turning into more of a personal issue. Their start as partners had been rough, to say the least. They soon discovered that they loathed each other equally. Simmons had a rough side to him, but he still maintained his goody-goody view on life, that his fellow humans were not to be stepped on, squished or otherwise dismembered. Barricade on the other hand distinctly reminded him that he was not a chauffer, and if Simmons did something he didn't like, he would regret it. Their alliance was tedious at best, antagonistic at worst. Barricade had solemnly promised if Simmons even thought about attempting to disassemble him, he would kill him. Simmons told Barricade if he attempted to attack or harm him, he would shoot him where it didn't regenerate. They both understood each other well. But once they had left Simmons' home state of New York heading back across the country was when things had become interesting. Barricade had picked up a remote signal that was encoded using Decepticon frequencies.

The disturbing part was, it was directed at his specific comm. channels.

He didn't know who had sent it, but a sour guess had tingled at the back of his processors. Starscream may be cunning, but he wasn't very good with communications channels, he was better at conniving intricate schemes that wouldn't work.

No... this bore another mech's mark. And Barricade didn't like it.

He had shared the information with Simmons only because he hadn't determined that this signal was a threat to him, and he wanted to investigate it and therefore needed the humans' co-operation. It wasn't a command signal, it was merely a frequency designed to get his attention, almost like a summons.

"No." He finally said, deciding the human didn't need to be included in this. It was a matter he preferred to investigate on his own, while the human recharged later tonight. The question of course was, could he get rid of him so he could investigate this matter on his own? The human was persistent in tracking him, despite lacking any technology to do such a thing. "Until I can pinpoint the signal, we cannot find it's source of origination."

Simmons shot him a sharp glance at the Saleen's dashboard, but said nothing. He was a sharp-witted man, and knew when he was being deceived, but by now he also knew better than to question the mech when he hit a wall of defense. Instead, he opened the manila folder and studied the information there. "We have been getting reports of strange behaviors from all over the country. Military personnel are paranoid that any high-security vehicle is going to start attacking them."

"Unlikely." Barricade snorted. "The Decepticons are smarter than that, and most of my kind have little interest for your pathetic race, human." He said darkly. "They would only attack for a common purpose."

"Yeah, well..." Simmons shut the folder, looking thoughtful as they sped through the freeways, weaving in and out of traffic. Barricade had adapted his cop car facade again, as he claimed it made it easier to get through the 'slow aft-heads' in traffic. He flicked it on and off as needed, depending on the circumstance. Simmons secretly thought the ex-'con enjoyed scaring people by blaring his siren and lights. If he couldn't hurt humans, he could threaten them subtly. It was a good way to let him blow off steam, so Simmons didn't put up a stink over the issue and let him have his fun. "What intel do you have on any potential arrivals?"

"Not much. I have no idea who survived the war, and who is on their way." The mech growled. "But knowing Starscream, he probably sent out a call to his wing mates first, Thundercracker and Skywarp. Those three are trouble... and dangerous."

"Why?"

"Starscream isn't as stupid as he lets on. He actually has a functioning brain, but his ego usually gets in the way of it's proper operation." Barricade growled. "But he's a good strategist, as long as those he commands listens to him, which isn't often. Thundercracker and Skywarp are more loyal to him than others, that's why they are a troublesome trio. Skywarp has the ability to shift positions in space to another location in mere astroseconds."

Simmons frowned. "What does that mean?"

Barricade looked up a familiar reference through the uplink to the internet. "He can teleport." He clarified.

"Shit."

"Yes. It is most irritating." Barricade growled. "Fortunately all that space shifting seems to have affected his processors, and he's not too bright. He does pack a punch if you aren't anticipating him, however. Thundercracker is different." He rumbled thoughtfully. "He has a more stable head, but often is reluctant to leap into battle as quickly as his teammates. He can reach extreme super-sonic speeds at high rate, making him extremely hard to catch."

"And you assume they may be next to arrive?"

"If the Seekers have not already arrived, they will soon."

"Right." Simmons made some mental notes. "Anyone else?"

"There are several who I would not care to encounter." Barricade growled. "Shockwave, Soundwave, and Vortex to name a few. All of them are extremely brutal in their methods, smart, and possessing unique abilities." Barricade scowled, remembering each and every one of those mechs. He had no fond memories for any of them.

"And we have no idea if any of them are here."

"Correct."

_Incorrect, Barricade._ A sudden transmission leapt into his head, nearly making the Saleen swerve off the freeway at the sudden appearance of a new identification. His Decepticon communications signals had been disabled by that pesky Hatchet, however he knew instinctively he was fragged. This one didn't need open pathways to transmit. Luckily, Simmons seemed pre-occupied by examining the files in his folder, and hadn't noticed Barricade's sudden silence.

_Soundwave._ He thought harshly, a sudden pulse of fear flooding through his processors. _So you are here after all._

_Correct._

_What do you want?_

_Mission: Recruitment. Opportunity offered. Return to Decepticon ranks._

Oh frag. _And if I refuse?_

_Possible outcome: Termination._

Barricade growled. He'd been afraid of that. It made sense of course, they couldn't have a loose cannon of unpredictability running around, but still he had no desire to co-operate with the Decepticons. _My loyalty was to Megatron, not that pit-spawn Starscream. You tell him to go frag himself._

_Negative. Loyalties irrelevant. Survival priority._

Barricade frowned. That was odd. What did Soundwave mean 'loyalties irrelevant'? Did that mean he himself hadn't sworn his cause to Starscream. _What are you proposing, that I join you? Don't you work with 'Screamer?_

_Information classified. Alliance demanded before authorized clearance._

Interesting. Barricade grinned darkly. So, Soundwave was his own mech independent of Starscream, and the Seeker didn't know it yet. _What are you proposing?_

_Proposal: Alliance._

It made sense. While Soundwave was a dangerous fragger, he was still one mech even with his drones. Though Barricade didn't know which had come with the communications officer, he knew that there had to be a couple still alive. And that meant Barricade had to watch his back. The problem with Soundwave was, you couldn't hear, see or sense him coming if he didn't want you to. A mech without any compassion or emotions, completely logical and single-programmed. He always did the logical thing, to a fault. Which meant that Soundwave had a plan of his own if he wasn't following Starscream's every demand. Still, that didn't mean he wanted to team up with him. He LIKED being on his own. _I'm not interested in an alliance with you, or anyone else, Soundwave_. He shot back coolly.

_Acknowledged._ And with that, Barricade suddenly felt a sharply intense pulse of severe pain, that had him slamming his breaks on. He didn't even hear the curses from Simmons in his front seat. He merely came to a screeching halt in the middle of the freeway as every bit of memory and information was forcibly removed from his head in one violent burst of data. He knew what was happening, but could do nothing to stop it, and in one mere astrosecond, Soundwave had everything he wanted, and the pulse stopped, leaving Barricade's processor spinning wildly as horns blared angrily around them demanding he move.

"Damn it..." Simmons had spilled the coffee colorfully all over the front of his shirt and the seat, but at this moment, Barricade didn't care. "What the hell was that for?!"

_Slag it, Soundwave!_ Barricade snarled, but was met with silence. The Decepticon had left, taking what he needed without hesitation or care. What had he wanted, Barricade wondered.

A cold sensation crept through his processors.

Oh frag.

Now, Barricade really didn't care that the Communications Officer now knew where the Autobot's base was, they'd have found it anyway eventually. He didn't even care that he knew his secret. Starscream knew about that particular detail anyway, and it really wasn't anything they could exploit out of him. But there was one tidbit of information he realized could be very dangerous in the Decepticon's hands.

The kid.

He wasn't sure why he felt so alarmed, after all what did he care about that pathetic Witwicky cretin... but yet... the idea of the Communications Officer getting his hands on the Allspark sent shivers of fear down his exoskeleton. There was no telling what he could do with it, and he didn't even know if the Decepticon was one who could manipulate it or not.

Without warning, Barricade suddenly spun his tires with a loud squeal of rubber on pavement and whipped around in mid-traffic, much to the anger of horns blaring at him as he sped through four lanes of traffic, slammed through the organic median and into the opposing lanes, siren blaring and lights flashing full tilt.

"What the..!" Simmons cursed violently, still dabbing the coffee off his shirt as he struggled to keep his balance in the wildly careening car. "ARE YOU NUTS!?" He slammed his hand into the dash by accident and cursed loudly. "What is so important that you HAD to do that?!"

"They know." Barricade said in a low voice.

"What? Who knows?" Simmons asked distracted by trying to dab the coffee off his shirt.

"The Decepticons know about the Allspark." He said tersely.

Simmons froze. "What? I thought it was destroyed."

Barricade cursed himself mentally. This idiot wasn't aware of that detail apparently. Too late now. "Not exactly." He said tersely. "We need to get back to Tranquility before the Decepticons get there." Slag it, he couldn't BELIEVE he was about to defend that son-of-a-glitch kid.

Simmons wasn't quite sure what was happening, but he did know one thing. If Barricade was worried enough to actually go BACK to where the Autobots were, it was serious.

"I'll make the call." He grabbed his cell phone and started to dial, but then the phone just made a feeble bleep. "What the...?"

"It won't work." Barricade said in a low voice. "He's disabled all our communications systems."

"Who?"

"Soundwave."

"Then pull over, I'll make a land-line call."

"Don't you GET it Simmons?" Barricade snarled. "By the time you get through to your superiors then they find a way to get permission to make the call, and finally DO it, it will be too late! We don't have that kind of time."

Simmons' face drained of color. He didn't like the finality in his partner's voice. "Too late for what, exactly?"

"Trust me, you'd rather not know."

* * *

**Tuesday - Off the coast of U.S. East Coast - 5pm EST**

"Sir?"

General Reeves lowered his coffee as he was addressed, turning to face the officer saluting before him. He returned the salute in silence. "Yes, Major?"

"We have some interesting developments you should hear."

"Developments?"

"Sonar picked up some unusual activity in the area directly northeast of our current location."

The General sighed, putting his coffee down on the table as he turned his full attention to the man. "It probably was another pod of whales."

"No, sir. This was something else. A disturbance of unknown origin that Sonar picked up in a suspicious area." He handed the printout to the man, who accepted it solemnly before looking over the paper.

Immediately his smile faded. "The Laurentian Abyss?" He asked as a troubled frown tugged at his brow. This was Trouble, with a capital T. He glanced up at the Major. "Any ships in the area?"

"We're the closest, sir. We can divert a sub to the area, but there's no way it can proceed to the bottom of the trench."

"I realize that." The man mused. "Send it anyway. If something's going on, I want to know about it." His eyes lowered to stare at the readout. It was a simple disturbance, and one that had he been anywhere else might have just passed off as nothing. But not here… no matter how small of a sonar blip, he wasn't going to take any chances. "Get me General Powell." He said grimly.


	28. Interlude 13: Skyfire

**How it Is**  
**Interlude 13: Skyfire**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

_**Several weeks ago…**_

Epps thought his life couldn't get any weirder after being attacked by a gigantic metal scorpion in the desert.

He'd been wrong.

The soldiers stood guard around the alien craft 24/7 now. Epps reported his findings and got the approval to move the alien, once it was stable. Now, the only problem was finding a way to fix it before it 'bled' to death the moment it's wing joint was exposed. They needed a compress of sorts. Luckily, with the amount of brainiacs around the region, it didn't take them long to come up with an instant compress made of the available supplies they had on the continent, something like instant insulation that gets sprayed into the walls of homes. If they drilled into the ice in several spots, then broke the seal at the same time they could deploy the liquid, hopefully sealing off any leaks as a temporary patch.

The alien had been very cooperative, putting up no resistance, though Epps had a feeling his low energy reserves and the cold environment made him unable to do much else. The key moment would come when they tried to move him, and once he was onboard the navel vessels. They had already determined that he was just too big and too massive to attempt to carry out on an aircraft that could fly in or out of McMurdo. Therefore, the only solution was to ship him out. Epps didn't know if these things could swim, though he rationalized that anything made of solid metal couldn't possibly float unless it turned into a boat. Therefore, it really had little places to go if it truly was injured, the cold water was a death sentence to it.

Finally, after weeks of work, they managed to separate the alien from the ice, and were ready to attempt moving him. The trick was going to be getting him across the fragile ice shelf. The ice here was thin in parts, so the geologists had carefully plotted the route for the heavy equipment to travel in order to come out here. The idea was to load him onto a lightweight sled, and pull him with various powered vehicles, to lighten the load on the ice. And the plan seemed sound. Epps watched from the side along with a full squad of backup as the trucks began to work from each side of the pit, carefully lifting the massive craft through a series of chains and ropes. Slowly, the rear of the craft came up showing massive engines filled with ice crystals falling off in chunks as they moved it. After a very carefully laboring several hours, they managed to hoist it out of the hole, and lower it onto the makeshift sled.

Epps had to repeat to himself, it was effin' huge.

True to it's promise, it stayed still and hadn't moved or spoken. Epps had dropped the hint that most people still didn't know what it was, so if it knew what was best for it, it'd stay quiet. So far, it had listened to him. He was the only one who had actually spoken to it directly, to everyone else other than his superiors, it was simply a strange alien craft. Just an average day-to-day phenomenon.

Moving it back to McMurdo had been fairly easy. Getting it onto the USCG Polar Star had been difficult. The Icebreaker-class ship hadn't been built to accommodate large aircraft, so it took up half the deck sitting there. Thankfully, they didn't require the space for anything else. And so, Epps was relieved when they finally set sail away from the icy continent, heading through the frozen waters towards the waiting carrier docked in warmer waters. The craft was co-operative the entire way, strapped to the deck with heavy metal supports to keep it immobilized, but it seemed content to remain in stasis for the entire trip, including the transfer onto the carrier, and the transfer into a secure large aircraft once they made landfall in friendly territory.

* * *

**Monday – Edwards Air Force Base, CA – 6pm PST**

Tech Sergeant Robert Epps still felt like he was still forging through uncharted waters as he stood inside the enormous airplane hanger designated off-limits, where the only craft inside was the large alien spaceship. He approached slowly, feeling a little uncomfortable despite the gun still slung at his side. His men were outside, and this place had more security on it than anywhere else on the base, more to keep their guest 'in' than to keep others out. They still weren't sure where it's alliances stood, and until they knew for sure, they weren't taking any chances. The alien's leader was en-route to meet with him personally, as well as bring his medical officer to conduct repairs. Until then, Epps was stuck babysitting.

He had to admire the structure of the alien, now that it was free of ice. It sure had gotten a rough ride through the atmosphere, by the looks of things, and several metal pieces seemed warped, perhaps by the constant pressure of the shifting ice. It's surface was pitted and dented, parts exposed and clearly damaged. The wing joint that had been the critical injury was held together with the insulation foam, and seemed to be holding any leaks back. But Epps couldn't help but stare at the thing as he slowly walked around it, boots echoing emptily in the large hanger. This one definitely was bigger than the others, though he knew alternate forms were a bit more compact. Metal pieces could slide and form intricate parts that shifted in place when these things stood up. So far, the alien hadn't moved, nor attempted to transform, of course judging how beat up it was, he wasn't surprised.

He was a bit surprised however, when he felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck, and realized that the hum beneath his boots was back. The energy around the thing practically sizzled, though it was very subtle, he could feel it. "Awake eh?" Epps stated, coming to stop in front of it's nose, not sure where it's front really was, but finding this an acceptable compromise.

There was a low warble, the voice still static filled and glitching. Epps frowned. He wasn't going to have the patience to listen to the thing try and strain itself talking again. "You got another way of communicating?"

There was a pause, before suddenly his cell phone vibrated in his front shirt pocket. He undid the flap and pulled it out, staring at a text message that was displayed.

_This method is acceptable._ The text read. _My vocal processors have been damaged._

"Got it." Epps said, glancing back up, impressed and a bit weirded out. How hard was it exactly for these things to just hack into their systems? This one, who was apparently freakin' old, had just done it in a heartbeat when it'd woken up, and now was doing it again. "Okay, so what's your um...diagnosis? You're not gonna keel over now that we got you out, right?"

There was another pause and a low whirring sound, probably as it preformed the required diagnosis. _Systems at 30 percent power output. Optics offline, transformation circuits damaged, 50 percent system damage, vocal processors damaged, scanning systems damaged…_ The list continued, as Epps stared at it trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The guy seemed pretty bad off, but not in immediate danger of 'dying' or whatever happened when these things stopped functioning.

"Okay… so… you can't change form, you can't see, can barely talk, and have no idea where you are? That about sum it up?"

_Correct._

Well that told him most of what he wanted to know. If the thing couldn't change form, couldn't scan anything, it was stuck here. "What about weapons?"

_I am not configured for weapons arrays at this time._

Epps blinked. "You don't HAVE weapons?"

_I possess mining lasers capable of performing various techniques, but they are irreparably damaged. I must scan and incorporate new systems._

Well there answered his other question. The thing appeared unable to defend itself. Of course that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. But at the moment, Epps felt a little less on edge. If it were incapacitated, it was at least passive for the time being.

_How long am I to remain your prisoner?_ The text message beeped.

Epps blinked and frowned. This didn't feel right. "You're to stay here under guard and co-operate until your leader and his medic arrive to talk to you. We can't let you leave until then…" He sighed, feeling uneasy. He didn't like the idea of keeping it prisoner though. "But I suppose you're free to move around the hanger if you need to. Once the others get here then we'll determine what happens."

_Transformation circuits are damaged. I cannot exit from my alternate mode._

Great. Epps sighed, and stared up at the ship thoughtfully. It was going to be a few hours until Optimus and his medical officer arrived, they had to speak with the government representatives and make their way out here on foot, or wheels rather. Which meant this alien had to sit and wait with only him as company, and Epps hated being idle. "All right." He said making a decision. "Anything I can do to help?"

_You would assist me?_

"Yeah." Epps said simply, turning his eyes upward though he knew that this robot had mentioned it couldn't see him. "Like I said, as long as you're not going to go shooting up the place, we're not going to treat you like some beat up ol' junker."

_I have no desire to cause you or other members of your species harm. I find your people quite fascinating._

"You do?" That surprised him, and suddenly he had a sneaking suspicion. If this mech wasn't military, that meant… "You sound like a scientist."

_That is correct. That is my primary function._

Epps grimaced. "Man, I hate scientists."

_I noticed you hold animosity towards me._

Epps sighed. "Sorry. Nothing personal, but I'm not keen on scientists, you're one big ass alien, and you remind me of that other huge one that destroyed half a city and killed dozens of people. I'm a bit touchy."

There was a long pause as the alien absorbed that information. _I would never do such a thing, Tech Sergeant Robert Epps. My processors cannot compute why ANY of my people would do such a thing._

"You and me both pal." Epps muttered. "You and me both. We didn't ask to be thrown into this crap. Now is there anything I can do? I know my way about planes, though I'll bet I've never seen anything like you before."

_Likely. However you might be able to assist in repairing the damaged circuits so I can at minimum transform back into bipedal form. The damage is not severe, but I cannot self-repair it until a line is patched.  
_

"Right. Well, show me what to do then." Epps approached the craft slowly.

_There is a panel in my central lower chassis._ It dropped open at the text. _Now you will have to repair the damaged circuits. I assume you have compatible components to my systems that can be used to patch the damage?_

"Well let me take a look." Epps said, crouching under the craft and peering into the compartment. It was a mess, that was for sure. He could see orderly lines, pipes and casing running down through the small compartment, and one of the lines was snapped open wide, tiny fiber-optic type cables shredded and cut. "Man, what a mess." Epps commented. "You sure did a number on this. What happened?"

He forgot he was supposed to look down at the text for a moment, so intent on staring at the damage. When it buzzed in his pocket, he belatedly pulled the phone out again. _I am not certain when the damage occurred. Most of my systems were damaged during my entry into this planet's atmosphere._

"You crashed huh?"

_Yes. My companion and I were scanning this planet for signs of inhabitation, life, and energy sources. I discovered there were numerous organic life-forms still yet underdeveloped, and wanted a closer look. I came in and became trapped by the strong air currents which pulled me into a storm system. The ice particles damaged my hull and gathered weight on my body. My sensors were knocked offline and I had no choice but to crash into the surface of the planet, where the ice cooling around my superheated exoskeleton quickly sealed me in the ice. My systems were forced to go into stasis-lock, and I knew nothing more until the vibrations of your extraction woke me._

Epps whistled, and tucked the phone back in his pocket. "Sounds like a rough ride." He admitted. "Curiosity killed the computer, eh?"

He didn't bother to look for a response, and the phone didn't beep at him, so he just began to inspect the damage. "Looks like a few things here are damaged... But it doesn't look bad as it could be... Gimme a beep once for yes, twice for no, makes it easier so my hands are free." The alien obediently send a warbling blip over it's damaged vocal processors. "Ok, so you probably just need a patch job to get these cables back inside, then you can heal the rest on your own?" One blip. "Right. Well I just gotta pick up some supplies then do to some patching." He pulled back out and walked to the front of the craft. He pulled out the phone again. "If you need me, just message me. I'll be back in a couple hours. Is there anything else you need?"

_If you have any available Energon, that would be nice…_

"Energon?" Epps frowned. "Not sure what that is…sounds like energy."

_It is. Energon is our life source._

"That blue stuff that was leaking from you?"

_Correct. We can regenerate Energon in our systems, but with significant loss it drains our reserves and helps to have additional resources_.

"Well I don't have any Energon handy… not sure if you'd do well with normal fuel like gas or electricity…"

_Electricity… this is energy discharged from your atmosphere? I witnessed such discharges on my flight down into the atmosphere. I am afraid that it would only scramble my systems further._

"Lightning probably." Epps thought. "We got discharges from clouds to ground during storms. Not good for one of us, can't say it'd be good for you." He shook his head. "Sorry pal." He turned to leave.

_Thank you for your assistance, Technical Sergeant Robert Epps._

"Just Epps, man. Just Epps. By the way, you got a name?"

_Using the language reference you provided me with, the closest approximation to my designation would be 'one who lights the skies on fire'._

Epps thought that over. "Right. Skyfire then. Fits you, iceman." He grinned then slapped the hull lightly. "I'll be back later."

* * *

**Monday – Edwards Air Force Base, CA – 8pm PST**

He wasn't gone longer than a few hours, true to his promise. He picked up some welding torches, spare metal junction plates and a cutting saw. He also bagged himself some dinner. By the time he got back to the hanger, it was already dark. A glance at his watch told him he still had about an hour before the other aliens arrived with Lennox. That gave him a little time to do what he could to help the alien in the meantime. He still felt nervous doing this, to be honest. He scratched his head as he unloaded the supplies from his truck and turned heading back into the hanger. While he was feeling a little more comfortable around this thing the more he learned about it, he still felt that gnawing nervousness in his gut. These things were so different than any E.T. he'd ever envisioned as a kid. Sure, the 'good guys' that they were allied with seemed pleasant enough, but they still had the capability to level a city. He didn't like that kind of control they had over them. On the other hand, just think of how they'd be at protecting humans from any threat…

Yeah. Big ass MoFo's.

He strode into the hanger and approached the waiting spacecraft. "I'm back." He announced, dropping the satchel filled with tools on the ground.

_Welcome back, Tech Sergeant Epps._ The greeting came via text message.

He grinned a bit, and began pulling out parts. "Ok…I hope this is good enough for you." He eyed thick portions of metal scrap he'd recovered from a work area. Pure titanium grafts, if that wasn't strong enough, he didn't have anything better.

_I believe that alloy will be sufficient._The response came a heartbeat after his statement. _It will allow my systems to naturally regenerate the affected area._

"Great." Epps said. "Let's get to work." He flipped on a radio he'd brought along. "Hope you don't mind the music, helps me work better."

_I do not. Your species' creation of this artistic form music is quite extraordinary._

"You don't got music where you're from?" Epps asked, raising an eyebrow as he faced the craft. "Damn. That's gotta suck."

_My people are not experimental into what you term the 'arts'._

"Figures." He replied as he ducked down to examine the undercarriage. "Computers are more interested in technology and science, am I right?" There was a single blip, as his hands were full and he couldn't look at the blackberry anymore. "Well, maybe you can learn a thing or two. Now let's see what I can do here…"

He worked solemnly for a good hour, carefully tucking the broken cables back into their holding, then welding the plate on top of the broken line. It was more tedious than he'd thought, as he had to slim the plate down a bit in order to get it to fit on the curve of the piping, but he chatted casually with his 'patient' in the meantime, though the conversation was mostly one-way as his hands were full.

He was so wrapped up in his work, that he didn't hear the distinct rumbling of a diesel engine outside the hanger, nor the tell-tale grinding of gears as the oversize door was slid open. It was only when a sudden voice sounded from his elbow that he realized he was no longer alone with Skyfire. "Just what do you think you are doing with my patient?" Came an irritated voice.

Epps blinked and pulled his head out of the small enclosed panel area to see a pair of bright blue optics glaring at him from a chartreuse alien robot crouched on one knee next to the spacecraft. "Uh." Crap, those things gave him the creeps!

"Epps." Will Lennox was already walking his direction, followed by a dark haired girl he remembered seeing during the battle.

"Captain." Epps immediately crawled out and saluted smartly, blowtorch still in hand, and welding mask raised on his head. His eyes slid over to the alien who had spoken, towering over him now with it's arms crossed in a very disapproving way. "I was just doing some repairs." He said defiantly. "He walked me through it, so don't get your fuses in a bunch."

The mech's optic ridge lifted in surprise at the man's back-talk, and Lennox grinned approvingly, slapping the man on his shoulder. "I see you got over your paranoia, Epps."

"Yeah well." He pulled the welding mask off, letting it fall to the ground with the rest of the tools. "He's pretty cool, actually. We had a good talk." He glanced back to the alien craft, and pulled out the blackberry. "How's that for ya?"

_Acceptable, thank you._The reply came immediately.

Lennox peered at the text then chuckled. "Well, that makes it easier." He turned back towards the aliens that had arrived with him, and tilted his head up. "Ok big guy, he's all yours. Let us know if we can help."

"Thank you, Captain Lennox." Optimus Prime's voice rumbled out as he sunk into a kneeling position to better be close to the humans. Epps tried his best not to flinch as the twenty plus tall robot knelt nearer to him. Damn… he was big. "Technical Sergeant Robert Epps, I thank you for offering your protection and assistance in his repairs."

"No problem." Epps said, nervously.

"Now move." The smaller alien demanded. "Let me see what the damage is. Can you give me a data burst of the diagnostics?" He said, turning his attention to the alien spacecraft.

There was a digital sound, followed by what sounded like the hiss of a modem. The medic's optics flickered as he received the data and began the analysis. Epps glanced down at the girl who had come with them and raised an eyebrow. "Why are you here?"

She smiled at him with a smirk. "I'm his assistant." She thumbed up at the grumpy alien.

"Damn. Got guts girl." Epps muttered.

From what the medic claimed after analyzing the data, the alien wasn't in as bad of shape as Epps had first thought. Most of it apparently was easy repairs once he managed to change out of his alternate form. However, the medic immediately began working on the wing joint before they attempted that. The girl watched the repairs intently taking notes while Epps and Lennox chatted quietly to the side about what was going to happen with their newest visitor. Optimus Prime spent the time speaking through a data channel to Skyfire, bringing him up to date on what had happened since his unfortunate imprisonment. Though the transmission was silent in front of the humans, there was a growing tension in Skyfires's frame the more he learned. However, when Ratchet finally sat back satisfied with his progress, everyone's attention focused back on the craft.

"Very well. I believe I have repaired your damaged joint. That disgusting compound the humans flooded it with may have been crude, but it did serve it's purpose in stopping the flow of Energon from leaving your systems, and considering you were operating on such little to begin with, you're lucky to be on-line at all." The medic warned, stepping back a few feet, and waving his hand to indicate the humans should do the same. They all quickly retreated to give the alien some room to move, all eyes and optics focused on his large frame.

Right on cue, the familiar sound of a transformation sequence being initiated filled the hanger, and then parts began to shift and morph out of place, re-aligning themselves in a rapid twist of sequences that took a considerably long time to finally finish. When at last the final plate slid into place, kneeling before them was an enormous robot, wings decorating his back, form sleek and silver. He didn't stand yet, as dim optics stared blankly ahead of them when his head lifted, a helmet gracing his head with raised visor retracted. "Holy…" Epps muttered, staring at the robot who easily could have been double the height of the 'big guy'.

"No kidding." Lennox murmured. "Good thing he's on our side, right?"

"No shit."

"Excellent." Ratchet said, immediately walking over to the transformed mech. "Now stay put and I'll see about those optics and vocal processors. Scanners online again?" The mech's head dipped once in a nod, with an affirmative sounding chirp from it's glitching voice. "Quiet." The medic scolded, turning back down to the watching humans. "Mikaela, feel up to attempting repairs?"

The girl looked nervous, but nodded swiftly, and didn't hesitate to climb into the extended hand as she was raised to the area and quickly began following the medic's quiet instructions. Optimus took this time to speak with the two soldiers. "It appears Skyfire was not exposed to any knowledge of our war previous to his crash-landing on your planet."

"Yeah, that's what he told me." Epps confirmed.

"He has accepted my invitation to return to our base once the repairs are complete. His skills will be very valuable to our cause, both his knowledge of science and his ability to be airborne. It finally levels the playing field between our faction and the Decepticons." The leader said thoughtfully. "Fliers on our side are rare. It is good to have one in our ranks again." His optics flickered back down to the two men. "However, he will require a new alternate form to scan, to better integrate with your world. Do you have any aircraft approximately his mass?"

The two men glanced over at the robot in question, and Lennox gave a low whistle. "I don't know, actually. He looks a bit big for an F-22…"

"Plus one of the uglies took that form." Epps reminded him. "No, he's gotta have something bigger."

"Transports are too big." Lennox said thoughtfully. "He needs something in between."

They were both silent for a moment trying to run through some options that they had at their disposal on base. "Captain." Epps was the first to come up with a solution. "I know there aren't many of 'em out flying, but what about the museum? It's got some older model retired planes that might be big enough."

"Maybe. Not much of a disguise if he picks a retired plane, though."

"Not unless you get him clearance." Epps suggested. "Write him in as a friendly, give him a number so our forces won't think twice about him flyin' around in our airspace?"

"Yeah, that'd work." Lennox nodded. He glanced up at Optimus. "Once you guys are ready we can show you some models. I have to go clear it first though, so give me a few hours."

"Thank you Captain Lennox. I appreciate your co-operation."

"Anytime, big guy."

By the time the Captain returned with approved clearance for the aliens to examine some of the military aircraft on base, Skyfire's optics and vocal processors had been repaired by the skilled hands of the medic-in-training. Bright blue blinked to life once the final wire was connected, and Skyfire scanned the room once before his optics rested on the small human hovering near his head in the hand of the medic. "I thank you, Mikaela Banes." His deep voice rumbled out, soft and grateful. "Ratchet has trained you well."

She blushed a bit in response, but gave him a thumbs up, as Ratchet immediately grilled him. "Everything in functioning order then?"

"Affirmative." Skyfire replied.

"Right. I'll work out the dents and kinks later back at base." Ratche nodded. "Good work, Mikaela." The CMO said proudly, lowering the girl back to the ground.

"Right. How about we get you that new form before it gets too light out there." Lennox spoke up. "We should do it before people start waking up for revelry. Now's a good time."

"Very well." And with careful movements that made the humans quickly scatter backwards to give him room, Skyfire slowly pushed himself to his feet, rising to his full height at about fifty feet which towered over Optimus' mere twenty-eight feet. His head had to stoop within the hanger, unable to straighten to his full height within the structure.

Epps couldn't help but give a low whistle, obviously impressed. "This is gonna be interesting."

The odd party made their way outside into the night, Optimus and Ratchet clearing the hanger without a problem, while Skyfire ducked to exit the building, straightening up tall in the starry night sky, blotting out the glow from the moon as his brilliant blue optics scanned the base. The humans piled into Epps' pickup as the man started off leading the three robots through the base. It was a very good thing there were few people around this late, as three towering aliens would not have sat well for the majority of the staff at Edwards. Fortunately, Lennox had managed to get everyone out of their immediate vicinity who didn't have priority clearance, through a few pulled strings from his COs. They first stopped by the tarmac to get a glimpse of the planes in service, but one glance told them all that F-22's F-15's and various other jets littered around the parked section were nowhere near big enough to fit his bulk.

Then Epps had an idea. He grinned widely. "I got just the thing, man." He said to Lennox, who raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "The SR-71."

Lennox blinked then grinned widely. "That might actually work."

"It'd fit him too, since he's more of a pacifist and science observer type…"

The humans sped off across the base with the robots carefully stepping their way over buildings behind them, and eventually they arrived at a low set series of buildings in the museum sector. Epps jumped out and pointed to one building with glass windows lining the roof. "Try that one out, man. I think it might work for you. One of the best planes out there for speed and ceiling cruising, plus it's got the bulk you need. It's not got a whole lot of punch weapons-wise, but since you're not really a soldier I guess that's not as big of an issue."

"We have our own weapons systems." Ratchet pointed out, folding his arms as Skyfire carefully stepped forward and bent over the windowed building to better study the plane within. "While we can incorporate those of a vessel we scan, we also can provide our own alterations as needed." Epps scratched his head, reminded suddenly that most of these Autobots didn't have weapons while in their vehicles modes anyway.

There was a brilliant flash of blue light suddenly, and everyone's optics and eyes focused on Skyfire who was straightening up and already walking away from the building, apparently satisfied with their choice. With a sudden twist of his tall form, he began to compact and fold down into a streamlined long jet whose titanium hull absorbed the light of the moon as he finished the transformation, sitting there in his brand new SR-71 Blackbird alternate form. "Sweet." Epps said in a low breath. "Always wanted to see one of those in action."

"That is one wicked jet." Lennox commented, as Skyfire began to change shape again, parts shifting and reformatting smoothly with gentle scraping of metal against metal until he stood his full height again, but with subtle differences to his form. Dark plating absorbed the light around him, though bright silver still shone out from his center joints, taking what might have been a very sinister look and making it unique to his own. The sleek long wings completed the look behind him, engines pointed downwards attached to his back like a rocket booster.

"This is acceptable." He acknowledged, obviously pleased.

"Excellent." Optimus said tilting his head up to address the tall robot. "Then it is time we took our leave and returned to base."

Epps glanced up towards Skyfire with a wide grin. "Please tell me you'll give me a demo, man."

"Most certainly. I would be pleased to have you accompany me."

* * *

_Author's note: If you haven't seen pictures of the SR-71 Blackbird, I have a couple up on my profile. But man is it one sweet jet! And it's ginormous!_


	29. Chapter 16: Reunions

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 16: Reunions**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

_**Tuesday - The Geysers, North of Santa Rosa, CA - 12pm PST**_

"Yo, you wanna step outside for a smoke?"

"Yeah, sure why not. Time for my lunch break anyway."

"How's the wife?"

"Comin' along nicely. Three months left, if all goes well."

"You nervous?"

"Hell yes!"

"Don't worry, it gets easier after the first year. Then at least you don't wake up in the middle of the night."

"You're some great help, Carlos."

"I try."

The two men laughed as they dumped their lunch boxes on the table and sat down, enjoying the warm air that wafted up from the rolling Mayacmas Mountains around them. It was a perfectly delightful summer day, not too hot, not too windy. The sunshine poured down around them as they cheerfully chatted about their personal affairs while on their lunch break.

The Geysers was a unique facility unto it's own, consisting of multiple sub-stations all linked together to generate the world's largest supply of geothermic energy at over 750 Megawatts. With over 30 square miles of wells to harvest the natural energy from the earth, it wasn't easy to get a job here. The plant employed physicists, geologists, mathematicians and researchers all to keep things flowing functionally, and to continue to develop bigger and better ways to harvest natural clean energy.

The plant was also virtually cut off from any means of immediate emergency response.

"So the other day, my little boy says something really crazy."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. He toddles up to me and says..." There was a pause. "...Holy Mary Mother of God..."

"No kidding...? Where in blazes did he learn that kind of tongue I wonder..." Pause. "...Rad?" His eyes lifted to follow his co-worker's gaze towards the sky as an odd sight greeted their eyes. Two F-22 Raptors were flying in formation, low over the mountains heading straight their way.

"Um... is this some kind of stunt thing? Why are they painted blue and purple?"

"I don't know, maybe it's a movie gig?"

Pause. "I don't think so..." The two were on their feet as the F-22's closed in lower coming to a level formation, still approaching at rocket-force speeds. "SHIT! MOVE!"

The two men barely had time to dive aside as suddenly bright blasts of blue energy began to explode into the ground around them, as the two jets soared low and with a tremendous explosive concussion, one of the plant's turbines exploded with a jarring force, sending fire and rubble soaring across the mountains in a glorious display of fireworks.

_BURN, PATHETIC MAGGOTS!_ Roared a cheerful cry through the commlink as Skywarp vanished from Thundercracker's side with a shimmer of displaced air, re-appearing over an untouched facility and repeated the process of destruction. Another generator exploded in a beautiful display of light and concussive sound.

Thundercracker laughed coolly at his wing mate's enthusiasm, lowering his guns on another facility, the explosion satisfying in his processors as he watched it erupt in flames.

Within five minutes, all 21 sub-stations had been completely destroyed.

_"Status?"_Skywarp asked as he flipped in mid-air hovering over the smoking pillars of burning rubble.

Thundercracker ran a quick scan of the area. His sensors detected no human life... no, wait... two life signs, damaged. The humans couldn't stop them either way, so he just ignored them. No point troubling themselves with details, this would be over quickly. _"Mission complete. All connections, generators and satellites have been terminated, along with the land lines. Go take care of the roads up here; can't have the humans sending ground troops just yet. Make sure to leave one open, otherwise the new arrivals won't be able to get off the mountain."_

_"Got it."_Skywarp tore off across the sky, heading towards the lower sections to blast holes in each of the roads leading up to the base.

Thundercracker eased his thrusters and landed at the central building complex, and leaned down, tearing the hole off the roof in one swift yank. These human buildings were so poorly constructed. He grimaced in disgust watching the plaster fall through his fingers as he scanned for the item he was searching for. _Ah hah, there it is. _His hand lowered to the computer data-core and he knelt carefully down, slipping out a tool and jamming it into the center of the device. Data began it's streamlined download as he scanned their processor files for the specific information they needed. Within seconds he had what they had come here for and he disconnected, scanning the area for the right place to do this. He spotted a weak section in the geologic plates by cross-referencing the new data he had gathered, and took several strides to the position, then carefully loaded the altered missile that had been carefully protected in his secondary launcher, crouched down and fired it straight into the ground. There was a solid 'boom' and displacement of earth and dust as the missile slammed into the ground, penetrating the soil and rock, traveling straight down to it's intended location. Thundercracker stood and examined the remains of the impact, scraping some dirt over it casually. The soil here was so loose no one would notice his little 'gift'. But he made sure to dump a burnt out shell of a truck over the site just in case, before he got up and walked through the decimated remains of the central complex, scanning the skies.

_"Incoming!"_Came a sudden burst of sound behind him as Skywarp teleported into a soaring entry, transforming and landing beside his wing mate with a gleeful grin on his face as his optics turned skywards.

On the horizon, five glittering balls of light could be seen heading their direction, flowing low over the mountains on their descent before they all vanished behind the ridge directly across from the two Seekers, the ground rumbling with a violent impact as the five collided in tandem. The two Seekers took to the air on thrusters, soaring over the hill to land on the ridge, staring down at the smoking impact craters where red-hot protoforms lay smoldering. They watched as slowly all five began to untangle their limbs from their pod shapes, forming into sleek silver bipedal figures that gazed instantly up at the two Seekers before slowly stomping their way up the hill to join them on the ridge.

_"Thundercracker."_The first spoke up in a rumbling voice. _"Finally, a sane face. What the frag are we doing on this backwater dump?"_

Thundercracker chuckled a little. _"Nice to see you too, Scrapper."_

_"Where's Bonecrusher?"_ Was the next question._ "He came here first to meet with Starscream."_

Thundercracker exchanged a wary glance with Skywarp, who was more than glad to let him handle the five, as he indicated with a burst of static laughter over their silent comm. frequency. Thundercracker sighed, and kept a solemn face. _"He was taken down by Prime."_

_"WHAT?!" _All five of the Constructicons were in an uproar, several cannons coming online with low whines, as the Seekers nervously eyed the ground lovers.

_"Don't take it out on us, we weren't here."_ He said quickly. _"Talk to Starscream about it."_

_"Oh believe me..."_ Scrapper growled. _"I will."_ There was a rumble of assent from the rest. _"We'll 'talk' to him all right."_

_"We saved some vehicles for you."_ Thundercracker was quick to say before they could dwell on their anger long. He ignited his thrusters, Skywarp taking his side. _"Take your pick and we roll out before the human bugs arrive. Starscream has orders for you five."_

_"Let me guess, he wants us to do his dirty work."_

_"Can your aft, Longhaul." _Thundercracker growled._ "Right now he's the only one with a plan, so unless you have some brilliant scheme to drive the Autobots out of the way, I'd keep your complaints to yourself."_

_"You're actually defending him. Hah."_

Missiles swiveled towards Mixmaster's face. _"Care to repeat that?"_

_"Um. No."_

_"Get going then. We don't have all day." _And with that, he blasted into the sky, flipping into his F-22 form smoothly with his wing mate at his side as they soared overhead while the five made their way down to the only area that hadn't been completely decimated, the building yard where a variety of vehicles had been parked while the humans had worked on a new facility.

While he was glad to see some more troops, he was a bit worried. The Constructicons were always a united bunch to themselves, and didn't really LIKE Starscream giving them orders. Of course, he couldn't name a single 'con who LIKED the Air Commander giving orders at all, but with the death of Bonecrusher, Thundercracker wondered if they might take their anger out on their new leader. It was entirely possible, perhaps that's why Starscream had not joined them on this jaunt.

Abruptly, a message crackled through his comm. Speak of the devil. _Thundercracker, Skywarp. I require your assistance to hunt down a 'friend'._

* * *

_**Tuesday - Somewhere over the California/Nevada desert - 1 pm PST**_

Starscream was troubled. It was rare that something bothered him this deeply. Irritations, certainly. Being thwarted by a megalomaniac desiring sole control, always. But troubled, rarely if ever. So far, his plan was being executed flawlessly. Soundwave had not only begun his mission, but also provided very interesting intel regarding Barricade and the Autobot's base of operations. Starscream had been very pleased with the results of the mind-probe, if disappointed that the ground-runner had turned down his offer to rejoin their ranks. He had been a useful soldier, more than a match for some of the Autobots. It was a pity that he'd seemed to have uncovered reminders of his past. Starscream would have liked to have him on their side for a while longer. But unfortunately, now that he knew that little detail about his past, he couldn't be trusted. Where did his loyalties lie? There was no way to know he wouldn't turn around and feed the Autobots important intel. So there was only one option left if he couldn't be convinced.

However, that was not why Starscream was troubled.

For the last several weeks, he'd noticed something strange on his communications' channel. It was a low-powered distress frequency set on a non-encrypted channel that was no longer in use. He doubted any of the others had even noticed it, most would have not incorporated old signals in their programming. The fact that he had not yet deleted this particular frequency was merely a small detail of old nostalgia. Then, the signal began to move, and grow in strength. A few days ago, the signal shut off, but not before he was able to pinpoint where it had stopped. That was where he was currently heading. He had to check this out himself to be certain.

Surely it couldn't be possible, after so long.

He'd run a comparison on the planet, but since the mechanics had changed dramatically there was no way to positively identify it in his database. Still, the question loomed.

Was it possible? Could HE be alive?

Starscream frowned as he tilted his trajectory, soaring high above the desert ground below, keeping his scanners peeled for other aircraft. If it were possible...this could be very important, not only for the Decepticons... but for him personally.

A blip appeared on his radar, heading towards him at a high rate of speed. Immediately his spark surged with hope.

It was the same energy signature as the signal.

Starscream pulled a high-speed 180 and began to tilt into a parallel flight pattern.

* * *

"So how fast exactly can you go?"

"I can cruise comfortably at Mach 3 for an extended period of time, and accelerate slightly higher as needed."

"Damn. That's just cool."

"Thank you Tech Sergeant Epps."

While they were cruising much slower than that high above the desert floor, Epps couldn't help but feel a sense of awe watching the plane turn and bank smoothly on it's own, without any assistance. He'd put in his share of flight time, but this was the first time he'd been inside a Blackbird. He glanced behind him to the other seat where Mikaela was curled up, her head casually leaning against the cockpit window, eyes shut as she tried to sleep. The poor girl had spent most of the night getting out to Edwards in the first place, then the rest of it repairing an alien aircraft. She was exhausted, and he had no desire to interrupt her nap. He turned his eyes back to the cockpit, leaning back within his restraints, feeling cramped despite their short trip. Optimus Prime, Ratchet and Lennox had set out earlier as their ground-travel would take longer for them to return back to their base. Mikaela had gotten a couple hours sleep, Epps had treated her to a hot breakfast before they had clambered into the waiting Blackbird, and let Skyfire take to the skies. The alien had been very happy at feeling the air under his wings, though after the first barrel roll he had quickly ceased his glee when Mikaela had pointed out her stomach wasn't suited to jet stunts. Since then, they had been gliding calmly through the clear blue sky, giving them an excellent view of the desert spread out beneath them.

However, despite the view Epps didn't notice what was rapidly approaching until Skyfire spoke up. "It appears we have an escort."

"What?" Epps glanced around frowning, then spotted the silver flash of an aircraft turning somewhere off to their left, it's underbelly sharply defined in the mid-day sun as it flashed silver their way.

Hold the phone... since when did F-22's sport red and blue paint jobs?

"Skyfire, watch it." Epps warned tensely, wondering if he should grab the controls or not. "That ain't friendly!"

"Nonsense, he has transmitted a non-aggression signal." The jet replied calmly. "Please excuse me while I converse with him."

Aw shit. Epps thought.

_Please identify yourself._

_Skyfire... I thought it might be you._

_Starscream? _The surprise was evident through the transmission, tinged with relief as well. _Finally, a familiar face._

_It's been a long time._

_So I have heard. The others have attempted to bring me up on the situation. I still find it difficult to believe. A war, Starscream... between our people? How could this happen?_

_It's a long story, my friend. A very long story. I would love to bring you up to date._

_I would enjoy conversing at length with you again, my friend._

_There's just one problem._ The tone suddenly had become hostile. _Why are you shuttling those disgusting humans around?_

_Disgusting? Really, Starscream they are quite a fascinating species. They are the ones who recovered me, and repaired my injuries. I owe them a debt._

_A debt? _Came the shocked reply. _You have got to be joking! A debt to the humans?_

_Why do you find that so surprising?_ Skyfire inquired curiously. _They are an intelligent species with fascinating capabilities._

_Bah, thank you but no. I find them small and insignificant._

There was a long pause as the two flew side-by-side. _Starscream, you have changed. There was a day when you would leap to my side in order to study a microbe on an uninhabited planet. I remember you were equally as fascinated by this planet as I... it was your idea to pursue the faint signals we uncovered and approach...what happened?_

_The war happened. _The reply came bitterly. _You have no idea what has happened, what has changed us._

_I only have a small glimpse_. Skyfire admitted. _And to be honest, I don't believe nor understand it. A civil war seems hypocritical and contradictive to me._

_You didn't have to survive through it._

_This is true. However I find it difficult for my processors to absorb this war-like persona of yours. What happened to the brilliant aspiring scientist who was going to revolutionize Cybertron with me?_

_He's still here... but learned to adapt to reality. _Starscream shot back wryly. _Come back with me, my old friend. You and I could take a hold of this war, put an end to it. We could discover the countless possibilities of the universe and rule it together!_

_Rule it? _Skyfire was startled. _Why on earth would you want such a thing?_

_No one else is befitting to guide our people to victory!_

Skyfire frowned, his engines rumbling with disquiet. _No._

_What do you MEAN no?_

_I mean no. I do not wish to fight a battle I know nothing about. I will not 'rule' others, nor take guns to a fellow Cybertronian. I am sorry, Starscream, but I cannot join your war._

_You choose to side with the Autobots then? _There was genuine disappointment edged with a small bit of hurt.

_I side with peace, Starscream. The Autobots have offered me refuge in their midst with no plans of universal domination. If you were interested in such a goal I would gladly go with you, however I cannot condone a war I have no part in._

There was a mental sigh through the channel, before Starscream replied. _Very well. But be warned, Skyfire... don't get in my way. I would hate to fire upon a friend._

_Likewise._

With that, the F-22 pulled away from the Blackbird, twisting into a spiral as it soared with rockets burning into the horizon, with a final transmission._Take care, Skyfire._

_You too, Starscream._

Epps watched in disbelief as the Raptor pulled an amazing twist mid-air that shouldn't be possible at the speeds they were going, and left without so much as a cursory blast across their nose. "What the HELL was that about?!" he demanded, knuckles still white on his seat from the tension at being so close to the enemy.

"It was a personal issue." Skyfire replied with a small sigh.

"Personal my ass! That guy's the one who took out some of my men!"

"I apologize for his actions, Epps." Skyfire replied quietly. "I do not understand this war. When I knew him, Starscream was a competent scientist with a brilliant mind who flew by my side. We were friends. I see he has changed much over the years I have spent in stasis. I assure you, he will not harm us for the moment."

Epps hesitated. "You were friends with that guy?"

"Yes, long ago." Was the somber reply. "It seems our friendship may be strained by an invisible dividing line between what we both believe is right."

Epps sighed. "That's the way war works, pal. War is shit."

"Indeed."

* * *

As the F-22 pulled away from the larger sleek black aircraft, Starscream couldn't help but feel a ping of regret within his spark as he'd failed to convince his former colleague to take his side. On one hand, he was slightly relieved that Skyfire had rejected his offer. War changed your outlook on life... and he had just seen an old friend that reminded him just how much that was true within himself. He was secretly glad that Skyfire had chosen to pursue his familiar methods, the line of peace and science rather than warfare. However, it troubled him to know that one day he might have to face his old friend from opposite sides of the battlefield. He only hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Abruptly his scanners shifted downwards as he approached the bustling city sprawled out beneath him, as a blip appeared on his mapping system. Odd... who was down there? The Constructicons were still too far north to have made it down this far, and he knew his fellow Seekers were with them... Soundwave was doing a special mission for him and had taken his drones... so that left...

His optics narrowed._Ahh, Barricade._ He could see the former member of his ranks sliding between traffic, completely oblivious to his presence. He smiled grimly, secretly thanking Soundwave again for providing the reason why: the Autobots had disabled his Decepticon systems... so he wasn't privy to the location of his companions any longer.

Excellent.

_Thundercracker, Skywarp. I require your assistance to hunt down a 'friend'. _He sent through his channel to his fellows.

_A friend?_Thundercracker replied after a pause. He sounded suspicious.

_Barricade has gone rogue. _He stated matter-of-fact. _He has decided he apparently is too good for our ranks, though after he abandoned us at the battle in the city, I should have taken him out right there._ He 'accidentally' slipped, purposely dropping that tidbit of information that he knew would rile his companions.

_He ABANDONED your ranks?_ Skywarp was appropriately disgusted, as he expected

_Yes. _Starscream sent with a smirk as he continued to watch the car speed through traffic, oblivious. _Why don't we have a bit of 'fun' with him._

_We're on our way._


	30. Chapter 17: Battleflag

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 17 : Battleflag**  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

_Author's note: **WARNING.** This chapter is rated M for violence. It helps to listen to the song Battleflag by Lo-Fidelity Allstars. That's where the lyrics come from, and the song makes a great play during the battle. Bleeped for foul language in the song._

* * *

**_Tuesday – Mission City, NV – 3pm PST_**

He never saw it coming.

The first blast struck just short of his nose, taking out a good chunk of the highway directly in front of him. The Saleen had literally no time to avoid it, and as the explosion shook the ground, Barricade reacted out of instinct, one arm unfolding beneath his chassis as he vaulted his vehicle form over the pit in front of him by firing one blast of his cannon into the still smoldering pit, vaulting them over the rim and screeching onto the pavement wildly on the other side.

**Your construction  
Smells of corruption  
I manipulate to recreate  
This air to ground saga  
**

"WHAT THE ----!" Simmons bellowed in shock, whirling around wide-eyed, one hand on his belt where his gun sat holstered.

**Gotta launder my karma**

Behind them the crater caught more than a few cars in it's lethal trap, but Barricade made no move to slow, and gunned his engine full speed, as another shot rained down to their right, left, right, left, as he dodged rapidly between them, cement and dirt exploding all around them as Simmons ducked and cringed with each explosion, desperately trying to see what was firing on them. Barricade ignored him, pushing his engine hard, speeding up to well over a hundred…. Hundred fifty…. The blasts slammed in closer together, cars exploding in shrapnel fragments, fiery balls with human screams littering the highway with short-lived bursts of terror before their lives were blissfully cut off before they could suffer. Two hundred miles an hour, and Barricade's engine began to whine with the strain, slicing in and out between the heavy traffic, clipping cars as he went.

**I said hallelujah to the sixteen loyal fans  
You'll get down on your ----- ------ knees  
And its time for your sickness again  
**

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" Simmons bellowed, hands white-knuckled on the seat as the car whipped in and out of traffic, crossing three, four lines at a time, weaving in and out as shots continued to rain down. Ahead of them his eyes widened more seeing a missile slam into the support structure of a freeway overpass. Barricade gunned forward as the thing fell, barely escaping as the cement pillars crumbled, sending cars flying off the ends of the bridge, and causing those trapped beneath it to stop in a crunch of twisted metal and cement. "WHO'S SHOOTING?"

"Do you have to ASK?!" Barricade snarled, slamming his side into a pickup that wouldn't get out of his way quick enough, ignoring it as it went spiraling out of control into the median. "It's the SEEKERS!"

**Come on and tell me what you need  
Tell me what is making you bleed  
We got two more minutes and  
We gonna cut to what you need  
**

"What?!" Simmons whirled around, this time staring up out the window, and spotted them. Three F-22's were hot on their tail, streaking with burning engines, missiles armed and ready, and one of them was delighting in firing bright blue blasts of energy that WASN'T standard on military planes. The three were identical, only slight variations in their colors told him these weren't military aircraft. They kept switching positions, as if doing an elaborate aerial dance, twisting between each other in a seamless transition, though the one with the most silver seemed to be constantly in the head of the formation, blasting the most missiles their way.

They were aliens, no doubt about it.

**So one of six so tell me  
One do you want to live  
And one of seven tell me**

"Shit." Simmons swore, turning his attention forward as Barricade slammed into another car, forcing it to the side with a jolt of metal and plastic, completely ignoring the fact that all the gauges on his readouts were going wild. "We have to get off this freeway, or more people are going to die!"

"WE'RE going to die if we don't lose them!" Barricade snarled, his gauge pulsing at the 250 mark, and not going higher, everything inside whining and starting to smell of burnt electronics. "I can't outrun three Seekers!"

**Is it time for your ----- ------ to give  
Tell me is it time to get down on your ----- ------ knees  
Tell me is it time to get down  
**

Simmons froze, realizing suddenly what that meant. Of course the car couldn't outrun F-22's that could pull Mach 2 plus. "Pull off at the next exit." He instructed firmly, gun in hand as he eyed the planes. His tiny pistol wouldn't stop them, they needed to lose them, like Barricade said.

"Are you NUTS?! If I slow down, they'll have us!"

"Just do it!" Simmons bellowed as Barricade swore vehemently in his native language, and tore up the off ramp, breakneck speeds far too fast for a normal car to handle the curve coming up, but somehow the alien managed to do it, his wheels sliding sideways so that the entire right side of the car slammed against the cement barrier with a shower of sparks and debris, but they kept going, actually taking to the air as they sped down the bridge, slamming to the ground hard with another blast of sparks, as the three seekers turned in tandem, following them hot on their tail. Barricade swore again, taking another turn wildly spinning his rear wheels, not losing speed for a minute as they slid four lanes of traffic, into the oncoming ones, before he straightened out and rocketed down the open highway, heading east away from the main interstate out into the open desert. There were no other cars here, no bridges, no settlements… and no shelter. But Simmons first and only priority, no matter how crazy and selfish he acted, was ALWAYS to the people around him. Even if it meant their lives were forfeit, he refused to put others in danger.

**I'm blown to the maxim  
Two hemispheres battlin  
I'm blown to the maxim  
Two hemispheres battlin  
Suckin up, one last breath  
Take a drag off of death**

Barricade's engine was running hot, the gears grinding as Simmons could smell the burning of rubber on pavement, the car weaving to and fro wildly as blasts slammed into the cement all around them, showering pieces up in blasts as another impact slammed to their right, far too close for comfort. Barricade's radio erupted in static, loud angry warbling screeching. Simmons growled, and glared up at the pursuing fighters, who were weaving back and forth in the sky, exchanging places with one another in fancy stunt maneuvers as they chased the fleeing vehicle. They were TOYING with them! And they were teasing the robot over the communications frequencies. Simmons noticed that Barricade hadn't replied, or at least not that he could hear, as the annoying screeching turned to something that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

_"Barricade… really you're far too much fun!" "Hey hey, slow down a bit so we can aim for that human inside!"_

_"Let's just blow him up and be done with it."_

"_Now now, we came here to deliver a message… Barricade, I'm giving you one chance to rejoin the Decepticons and rise to glory and victory!"_

"_I think he's ignoring you, Starscream."_

"_LORD Starscream."_

"_Right…"_

"_So I take it your answer is no then? No reply? Very well… I suggest you think very carefully about what to say when you meet Primus himself!"_

The three jets twisted in tandem, pulling lower into an attack formation.

**  
**_**Hey mr. policeman  
Is it time for getting away  
Is it time for driving down the **_**----- ------ **_**road  
And running from your --- today**_

The car sped forward at top speeds, each missile attack slamming one step closer, making him swerve to the side, only to have to avoid another one. Simmons' heart pounded in fear, realizing what they were doing. They were wearing him out…. They weren't aiming to hit, they were playing cat and mouse, forcing him to make a mistake… They needed to get away from them NOW. "The lake." He shouted over the vibrating roar of the engine. "Go for the lake."

"What?!" The roar was barely audible, but unfortunately it served it's purpose. Barricade was distracted.

_**Now tell me if do you agree  
Or tell me if I'm makin you bleed  
I got a few more minutes and  
I'm gonna cut to what you need  
**_

Simmons heard the whine of the missile shortly before it hit, and only had time to duck down before a violent explosion hit them full on. Suddenly, his stomach lurched as the feeling of weightlessness took hold, then suddenly his eyes were wrenched open as something very hard and tight gripped his arm, and he was ripped out of his seat and sent wildly careening through the air, landing with a hard impact on the dirt and rolling several feet before coming to a stop. Fiery pain shot up his arm, and he didn't have to look at it to know it was broken. But that barely registered, as he looked up sharply in time to see Barricade rolling the same way he had, only to lunge to his feet, still in the midst of transforming, having ripped Simmons out of his interior in the process of shifting forms. He came to his feet, and with a snap and hiss of hydraulics and parts, a cannon unloaded on his arm, followed by a quickly spinning wickedly spiked hand-held mace. He stood firmly on the pavement, both feet planted equally apart from each other for maximum stability, but one glance told Simmons that the ex-con was in poor shape.

All four tires were shredded on his transformed self, various dents and tears were ripped through his armor, and there was a splattering of odd glowing blue on his dusty black armor. One optic was shattered, dim of it's red light, and one of his legs appeared torn into the inner workings, wires sparking all over the highway in showers of blue light. However, he held his position turning to face the three seekers, as the jets rocketed over head, the smoking craters on the highway lobbing the stench of melted concrete their way. Simmons stumbled to his feet, grabbing his gun only a few feet away, keeping his broken arm close to him and stood, staring up at the three with a growing sense of horror.

_**So one of six so tell me  
One do you want to live  
And one of seven tell me  
Is it time for your **_**----- ------ --- **_**to give  
**_

Barricade let out a loud bellow of grating vibrating tones, that sounded clearly like a violent hurl of insults, before his cannon charged up and began to send rippling waves of blue energy up towards the seekers. They scattered formation, splitting apart and thus making it three targets the mech had to worry about. "CALL FOR BACK UP!" Simmons bellowed from the side, eyes wide as he stared around watching the three jets slowly turn into formation, closing in for a killing strike.

"I CAN'T!" Barricade snarled, his head lifted towards the three, rapidly flipping between them, as if trying to decide which one to go for first. "My communication's are out! Get out of here, NOW!"

"Screw that." Simmons snapped. "You can't take them alone!"

"YOU can't help me!"

** Tell me is it time to get down on your ----- ------ knees  
Tell me is it time to get down  
**

Yeah… he knew one human was useless against three alien jets without some kind of heavy weapons. But if there was one thing Simmons wasn't, it was a coward. He had a partner to protect, even if his shots couldn't do anything, his eyes could. "Aim for the right one, it's wing is angled lower, hit it and it'll careen out of control."

Barricade swung his cannon around without hesitation, and fired a blast precisely at the descending jet. His shot aimed true, despite the attempt by the jet to fire, his sudden change in targets had thrown it. The blue energy struck the mech full in the right wing, and a bright fireball explosion engulfed it. For a moment, Simmons dared to hope, but then the jet rocketed out of the fireball, wobbling on it's wings and streaming black smoke, but not altering it's course. "Frag." Barricade snarled, whirling his cannon around as the other two released their missiles right at him. Two blasts from his cannons took out the first two, but Simmons had to dive to the side as the other two impacted into the ground with an earth shattering explosion, screams of other drivers arriving on scene piercing the roar of fire and explosives.

**Got a revolution behind my eyes  
We got together and organize**

Simmons lifted his gaze, staring over the divider of the freeway back at the mess. Though less busy than the other interstate, people were still here… and then he saw a sight that clutched at his heart like terror he'd never felt before. A bright yellow school bus sat only feet away from them, half-trapped in the middle of one of the craters, the front smashed in, trapping the children still inside. "Shit." He swore, whirling around to see Barricade picking himself up, shaking his head a little. Blue was splattered across the road, but Simmons couldn't tell where it was coming from. "Cade!" He snapped, and the robot's optics lifted to stare at him impatiently. One glance told him all that he needed to know, recognizing Simmons' expression, and hand pointing at the school bus. He snarled, and pushed himself up, whirling back around to face the seekers who had all turned again and were zeroing in on the mech.

"GO!" Barricade snarled over his shoulder, both feet planted firmly on the ground, cannon glowing as he fired off several more blasts, which the Seekers unerringly avoided.

**Got a revolution behind my eyes  
We got together and organize**

"What?!" Simmons blinked, staring at the mech as if he'd suddenly taken a blow to the processors.

"DO IT BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND!" He snarled impatiently. "GO!"

Simmons couldn't believe it. The ex-'con who hadn't given a second thought to slamming into other cars in their fleeing trek up the freeway now was purposely choosing to distract the seekers so his squishy partner could save humans. However, Simmons didn't hesitate for long, knowing time was limited. He tore back towards the bus, where scared faces were staring out at him wide-eyed in terror. He slammed his gun's butt against a window, shattering the glass, and gestured to the first kid. "Come on, out, out, now!" He said firmly. "One at a time. Run back the way you came, fast as you can. Stay off the road. Go!"

**Got a revolution behind my eyes  
We got together and organize**

He helped each one slip out the window, glancing over his shoulder as he watched the three other mechs suddenly shift form in mid-air, supported by their jets, hovering in place above the ground-based mech. He could hear loud screeching transmissions from all sides, as threats and jaunts were being exchanged, but Barricade seemed to be holding his own, cannon aimed at the one who seemed to be the leader, exchanging verbal blows this time. Simmons knew this wouldn't last long… but it just had to last long enough.

"_Look at this… Barricade seems to have gone soft."_

"_Get slagged, Starscream."_

"_Protecting humans, that's pathetic… what could they possibly offer you?"_

"_They're an excellent method of manipulation, but you carry one around as if it's a pet… My my, first you join the Autobots, now you serve the humans!"_

"_I serve NO ONE!"_

"_Only yourself. Which is not acceptable. If you are not with us, you are against us. Last chance."_

"_Pit-spawned slagging glitch… I am going to be your personal grim reaper, Starscream… Bet on it."_

"_Really? I'd like to see you try in your condition, traitor. Enough talk. Time to end this."_

The diversion worked. The moment he had the last kid out of the bus, Simmons saw all three Seekers perform perfect in-air transformations once more, and roar upwards, as Barricade sent a volley of shots for their engines. One hit the injured one, and more smoke billowed out as it wobbled mid air. It lobbed a few missiles down at the mech, and then split from the others, as they began to pin him in performing a three-point maneuver on all sides.

Simmons realized what they were going to do….

**You want a revolution behind your eyes  
We got together and organize**

"BARRICADE!" He snapped, bolting forward as fast as he could, intent on warning the mech on what the three were up to. Barricade seemed intent on just taking the first one down, blast after blast aimed right at it as a roar of anger emanating from vibrating vocal processors, and hadn't noticed their move. Simmons slid to a halt at the mech's feet, and saw his head snap down, blazing red optics glaring at him in surprise.

"Are you suicidal, human!? You cannot stand against them!"

"Neither can you." Simmons shot angrily.

"Foolish human!" Barricade snarled, but it seemed less harsh for just a brief second. "Throwing away your life solves nothing. I will have you OWE me your life instead!" And in that one brief moment, Simmons suddenly understood something. No matter who your partner was, human or alien, there was a bond there… even if the other was a sick and twisted masochistic robot…

Therefore, when Barricade's hand whipped out and grabbed him roughly around the middle in a clenching grasp, he knew better than to try and resist as suddenly he felt himself go airborne. His body became lightweight, soaring through the air, while behind him he heard and felt the impact hit. From a slow arc head over heels, his eyes witnessed the bright explosion, flames of orange combining with a flash of blue, as six missiles and three plasma blasts combined into one ferocious explosion, with Barricade caught in the middle. What happened next, Simmons couldn't see, as suddenly blackness engulfed him as he hit the ground head first, carried away from the explosion by the very mech who had once threatened to kill him if he got in his way._  
_

**Come on baby tell me  
Yes we aim to please**

Barricades' laugh echoed across the road with distinct mirth, as the fireball engulfed him.


	31. Chapter 18: Sacrifices

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 18: Sacrifices**  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

_Author's note: Apologies for the delay everyone, I came down ickly sickly, and was in no condition to brainstorm or think. I am better now! On with the writing._

* * *

_"News reports are coming in from all over the city. A massive assault on the American public… Three military jets firing in broad daylight on an interstate… First estimates come in at over fifty dead….hundreds injured, with more reports coming in…."_

"_It was crazy man! Like a freakin war! Out of nowhere, these three planes come speeding overhead, take out a bridge right in FRONT of me!"_

"_They were chasing something, thought it was a black car…"_

"_Don't know what happened, all I saw was fire, explosions…"_

"_Reports of a massive assault off a freeway exchange…."_

"_An apparent terrorist attack has destroyed the world's foremost geothermal power station, reported death toll at nearly two hundred…"_

Sam's hands were gripped tightly on the steering wheel, for once glad that he wasn't driving, since there would be no way he could have focused on weaving in and out of the snarls of traffic around them as the yellow Camaro sped full-tilt down the road, leading the haphazard crew of vehicles as his top speed let him pull out far in front. "My god." Mikaela said in a tense voice, her face white, lips tightly pressed together as her bright blue eyes stared out the windshield steadily. "Who were they after? Do we know?"

"No." Bumblebee said tersely through the speaker, his vocalizations tense and crackling with concern. "No one sent a signal. It just started. With no warning."

"I thought we were prepared for something like this!"

"I thought so too."

The ride was silent, speeding at over a hundred miles an hour, the military already having been the first called to the scene to cordon it off. They were making their way as fast as they could given the situation. The growl of Optimus' engine behind them could be heard whining over the hills, trying to keep up with Bumblebee's faster speeds, especially since he had only arrived with Ratchet the same time Mikaela had returned with their new arrival. They rode in complete silence, no radio, no words, until finally a haze of smoke could be seen hovering on the horizon, and Bee gunned his engine more insistently as they sped weaving through the countryside, before he gave up all efforts, and tore off across the dirt road the moment the freeway came into view. The others followed him without hesitation, as they relentlessly surged toward the scene.

It looked like something out of a war zone.

Thick black smoke was rolling up from various vehicles burning on the road, enormous gaping pits littered the highway scattered about, some widely spaced, some close and overlapping. Blackened concrete lay scattered all about the road, smoking ruins still smoldering, with a stench of burned chemicals. There was even a school bus, completely burned out in an empty husk, other cars scattered about near it, toppled over on their backs, all having been clearly thrown from what was laying in the center of a very deep crater in the middle of the highway.

Sam didn't hesitate, and neither did Bumblebee the moment Mikaela and Sam were out of his cab, he transformed. The three of them ran forward, ignoring all protocol since the military had already blocked the area off. But what greeted their eyes was nothing short of gruesome.

Sam skidded to a stop, his eyes wide as his heart froze in mid-beat, his breath catching with a ragged gasp. He heard Mikaela's throat clench beside him in a similar strangled sob, both hands lifting to her face as they stared down into the pit below. Bumblebee stood silent behind them, uttering not a sound. 

They could barely distinguish what lay inside the crater. It was a tangled mess of melted parts and twisted metal. Brilliant blue liquid was splashed up on all sides of the crater, pooling down at the bottom with a gleaming shimmer to it's surface, as it flickering with dying energy. The figure wasn't in one piece, there were several scattered crushed parts laying in the pit, some imbedded in the wall of the crater, a shattered refuse pile. One of those pieces was barely recognizable as a hand. It was all the two humans could do, clutching each other for support as they stared down at the twisted heap below. Even in the midst of war, such a sight was far beyond appalling. This hadn't been a fair battle… this had been an execution.

Sam felt his heart pounding in his chest, as he lifted his eyes up slowly to stare towards his guardian towering over them both. Though Bumblebee didn't look at them, he seemed to know what his ward was thinking. "….it was Barricade." He said in a low mournful voice, strangely sympathetic for one who once was their enemy. 

_Was?_ Sam glanced over at the twisted heap of metal, and suddenly felt all his hairs stand on end, as a strange pulse of something completely foreign tingled down his spine. "Bee. He's not dead." He said suddenly, releasing Mikaela, and scrambling down the crater's incline, intent on reaching the mech below.

"No, Sam wait!" Bumblebee called out in protest, but his call went ignored. "We don't know what Energon could do to the human body!"

Sam ignored him, intent on the figure laying down there, feeling a draw, a pull towards him. This was important, he knew it, he could FEEL it. He landed awkwardly on his feet, scrambling over the dirt and rocks mingled with pieces of the mech scattered about the bottom, carefully hopping over the large splashes of Energon. It was everywhere… it coated what was left of the mech in a dusty grime of blue mingled with brown dirt, turning it into a mud clinging to every orifice. Sam wasn't even sure where the mech's face was. The body was so twisted and bent, that he couldn't be sure the head was even still there…. But yet he could feel it, a pull at the center core of his being, drawing him close….

He scrambled up onto the top of the rubble, and leaned down, placing his hands flat on the mech's chassis.

Immediately, Sam felt as if he were falling. It was the same gut-clenching sensation that clawed at you on a roller coaster dropping suddenly out from beneath you, but it didn't stop… it was as if he were continuing to fall, despite any sense of motion. He could feel the rush of no control over the situation overwhelming him, and struggled to try and stop himself from falling. 

Abruptly, the sensation ceased, and Sam opened his eyes to try and see where he was. All around him was endless blackness, so pitch and dark that he couldn't even see his own hand in front of his face, though for all he knew he had no hands in this place. But it felt thick, like fog or water as he tried to look around and see where he'd come.

Then suddenly, a deep vibrating voice echoed out from the darkness all around him, shaking his bones to the core with it's proximity. _What are YOU doing here?_

Sam would have jumped if he'd had a body, but being just conscious thought made it a bit difficult for him. He looked around for some kind of sign as to where the voice was coming from, recognizing it as Barricades. However, he could find no evidence of anything at all. "I don't know." He admitted aloud, his own voice seeming small and tiny compared to the baritone of the ex-'con. "I just… felt pulled here."

_You cannot save me, fleshling._ The voice sounded irritated, to Sam's surprise. _I am damaged beyond repair._

"Then why are you still here?" Sam asked, confused. 

_My spark has not yet been extinguished._ Came the growl, but there was a softer edge to it. _But that will change soon enough. Leave me to die in peace, maggot._

"Hey, bolt-brains!" Sam snapped, fed up with the constant insults. "I'm here to help you, ok! So shut up!" There was empty silence to his words, and Sam straightened a little, feeling a burning pulse of power throbbing inside his very core being. He could do something here, he knew he could. But he had no idea WHAT that was. He glanced around the darkness, then frowned. Maybe if he let the feeling inside guide him… he was a bit afraid of releasing it, but at the same time he knew holding it back would only burn precious seconds away that Barricade didn't have. So, Sam took a deep breath and relaxed himself calmly, and felt the power begin to swell out of him in a wave of energy. 

It was gentle, soothing, not at all like the harsh burst he'd expected. Instead, it seemed to flow out of him, and as he opened his eyes, he saw bright blue light flickering around him in arcs of lightning energy. They flickered in and out of existence, but seemed to be drawing him closer to something… something distant down the endless blackness. As Sam drew nearer, the image began to become clearer, and soon he found himself floating in front of a concentrated point of light so intense that he had to look away and avoid staring directly into it. All around him the blue power flickered brighter, tendrils reaching out towards the brilliant light, as if caressing it. Sam felt a strange sense of duality echoing around him, as a whisper of a voice just out of reach seemed to be on the fringe of his consciousness. 

Abruptly he knew what this brilliant burning light was, strong and powerful, refusing to give up despite all odds.

A spark.

_Take it._ Barricade's voice was distant, faint, fading…

_Take it…_ A voice spoke quietly behind him, unfamiliar and calm. 

Sam slowly reached forward towards the spark, the tendrils of energy crackling more intensely around him as he hesitantly approached the brilliance of the light hovering before him. His hands felt cool, pulsing with a strange beat that he realized was like a heart…energy surging within the spark. 

He grasped it in his hands, as everything exploded in an abrupt wash of blinding light.

She felt it before she saw it. Her chest suddenly felt hot, as if everything was pressing in on her very soul as a burning sensation flooded through her. Mikaela gasped, her hands pressing to her chest in sudden pain, as Bumblebee's head snapped towards her, optics worried. "Sam…" She whispered softly, before suddenly something happened. Sam's back stiffened, and he started to topple over.

"Sam!" Bumblebee launched into motion, one hand snapping out as he slid down the crater, catching Sam inches before he hit the ground, cradling the boy carefully as he straightened up, staring down at him with concern. 

"Is he ok?" Mikaela gasped from the crater's edge, staring down at Bee's palm with wide frightened eyes. What had Sam been thinking? The burning feeling was ebbing, but she still felt a nervous knot twisting inside her very soul. 

Bumblebee turned his optics downwards, studying his charge carefully. Sam appeared to be in stasis-lock, laying back on his palm with a pale face, body limp. However, Bumblebee could FEEL the power tingling in his palm. It wasn't at all like it had been before when they had mentally connected, this was raw pure power. It practically scrambled every signal in his body, a vibrating hum shivering down his processors as his optics slipped into scan mode. To his shock, what he saw nearly caused an overload to his CPU right then and there. _No… it wasn't possible. _

"Bee!"

Bumblebee slowly lifted his head back towards Mikalea. "He is not dead, Mikaela." He replied quickly to ease the human's fear. "He still breathes and his pulse is steady." _But…_

"Bumblebee!" Ironhide's head poked over the crater, taking in the scene as he and Optimus both arrived at last. "Primus…!" The weapons specialist uttered, staring in shock down at the figure laying silent in the bottom of the pit. The Energon had stopped glowing, and a quick scan revealed that there was no sign of a spark beating within the twisted shell. 

"It's too late." Optimus said solemnly. "There is likely nothing we could have done to help him even if we had come earlier."

"Optimus." Bumblebee said softly, and the two mechs turned to stare at the scout, who slowly climbed out of the pit, Sam cradled carefully in his hands. "We need Ratchet to look at Sam right now."

The two mechs turned their gazes down towards the unconscious boy, but the usual interference field kept them from running scans on him. He simply appeared to be out cold. "It will have to wait." Optimus said heavily. "Ratchet is currently occupied."

"Occupied?" Bumblebee turned his head to see the mech in question snapping instructions to the twins, before shifting forms as Sideswipe carefully picked something up from the ground, and slid it inside the open ambulance doors. "Who?"

"Simmons. He is in critical condition." Optimus said solemnly. "But he is alive. Ratchet believes that he will live, if the proper medical attention is given."

Mikaela swallowed hard, staring between the three mechs as Bumblebee knelt down and scooped her up with his other hand, combining them so she could attend to Sam. She knelt down and scooped him into her lap, lightly patting his face, and drew back as a small shock tingled in her palm before she could lay a hand on his face. "Sam." She whispered faintly, brushing her warm hand against his cool cheek, and feeling a strange pulsation beneath her fingers as they brushed his skin. 

"We must assist with cleanup." Optimus said firmly. "Bumblebee, go with Ratchet to the hospital, inform him of Sam's condition so he can be prepared once Simmons is safely in medical care. It is likely he is the only one who can tell us exactly what happened here. We must see to his safety first. The rest of you..." He turned to the other mechs waiting for orders. "Assist in clean-up, but maintain a watchful eye for any Decepticons who might think of returning to the area."

There were no complaints, as everyone immediately got to work, the severity of the situation sinking in as Bumblebee set Sam and Mikaela down for her to get him inside, shifted to his alt mode, and sped after Ratchet en-route to the hospital. They didn't speak the entire way, other than a brief data burst to Ratchet informing him on what Bumblebee knew of Sam's condition. It wasn't until they got to the hospital and Mikaela slipped Sam into Ratchet's medical section then headed off in order to talk to the hospital staff about Simmons, that Bumblebee posed the question the two mechs had been thinking about for the entire trip. _What are we going to do with Barricade?_

_I don't know._ Came the somber reply. _We won't leave him there. Chances are he'll be brought back to our base if I know Optimus. From what reports I've gotten, he may have actually acted thinking of someone else other than himself for once... the attacks apparently started in the city, and it seems Simmons and Barricade drew the Seekers to the outskirts in order to lessen the amount of lives lost. _

_How is Sam doing?_

_The same. I won't know what's wrong with him until I get him back to my medical bay._

_Do you think..._

_Don't._ The answer was firm. _Don't speculate yet until we know what's happening. We'll find out soon enough. _

They continued in silence after that.

Back at their base, they were the only two there. It seemed eerie and somber without the constant bickering of the twins, the clanking of tools and construction work, and echoing voices breaking the din of silence. The two mechs moved in silence to the medical bay, where Ratchet lay Sam down and began to do his job in a business-like manner, shooing Bumblebee out in a heartbeat. "You'll just get in my way. Pace outside." He barked with a slam of the door in the scout's face.

And so, Bumblebee had done just that, pacing back and forth relentlessly for hours, finally wearing himself down so he chose to take a seat against the wall, waiting. As he waited, he turned over what he thought he'd seen in his head. He knew Sam's journey into the mysterious world of the Allspark was going slow, which was good for him. He couldn't handle more than a little at a time, the human body was too fragile to accept that much power. It concerned Bumblebee deeply, since he was frightened that if Sam pushed himself too hard or too fast, he might lose the closest friend that he'd ever had. He had been sparked and raised around war, friends were few and far between. It was strange, but he felt pulled to Sam, in a protective way that went beyond simply playing the role of his guardian. He worried for him, both in his health and social life. Bumblebee had watched the Twins interact before, and if you could see past the pranking and the harsh attitudes, you could see that they shared a deeper bond than most teams shared. Brothers... that was how he saw Sam, a younger brother, more than just a friend... family he had never had. And the thought of Sam laying there so pale and prone, it scared Bumblebee deeper than even Megatron had when he'd crushed his vocal processors. 

He barely heard the others return, and was only aware of their presence when a hand settled on his shoulder, and he glanced up, optics coming back online from their power save mode, to see Wheeljack's concerned optics staring down at him. "How is he?"

"Don't know." Bumblebee said softly. "Ratchet hasn't come out yet."

The scientist made a small comforting warble, straightening back up and looking towards the door, as if considering entering. He didn't approach however, knowing full well that he would be sorry. There was a line that shouldn't be crossed, and that line included not interrupting the CMO when a friend's life could be at stake. "Don't worry." Wheeljack offered. "Sam's a strong boy. The Allspark wouldn't do anything that would endanger his life, that much I am certain of. They cannot co-exist if one ceases to exist. He will be fine."

Bumblebee nodded in meek acceptance of the scientist's words, but it did little to cheer the yellow mech up. Eventually, he was joined by several others as they filtered back in, Ironhide and Optimus stood deeply involved in a discussion, the twins came over and tried to offer teasing remarks to cheer Bee up, but quickly retreated knowing they shouldn't push their luck. Bee only glanced up when Ironhide sat down heavily beside him with a windy sigh. "Chin up, kid." he said firmly, but he didn't chide the scout for behaving in a non-soldier fashion. Instead, he switched topics to get Bumblebee's mind off of his ward. "Simmons is going to pull through, Mikaela tells us. He's still out of it, hospital says he has a broken arm, some cracked ribs, burns, and a fractured skull, and he's in a coma but you know how tough that pain in the aft is... She's staying there till we hear how Sam is." The old warrior let out a slow breath, tilting his head to study the door, as if silently demanding that Ratchet appear.

Almost on cue, the doors opened, and Ratchet strode out. Immediately all optics snapped up to stare at him, conversation stopping, as they waited expectantly for his report. "Well..." Ratchet said solemnly, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed the group, pausing to linger on Bumblebee longer than the rest. "Sam appears to be stable for the moment. His pulse and breathing are steady." There was a collective sigh of relief among some of the mechs, shifting among those less familiar with the human who had grown to be invaluable to their ranks. "That's the good news."

"And the bad news?" Bumblebee demanded, coming to his feet slowly, optics not breaking contact for even a nanosecond. 

Ratchet gazed evenly at him, then shifted his gaze to stare directly at Optimus. "The bad news is, I don't think he'll be waking up anytime soon. But who you want privy to what I have to say, Optimus, is your call."

Optimus nodded once, gazing about the room as he took in the sea of optics studying him. Everyone was concerned for Sam, and he knew that the boy had become friends with them all. However he had Sam's personal wishes to consider in this matter. "Bumblebee, Ironhide." He pointed to the medical bay, and the three of them followed Ratchet in, excluding the rest for the moment. Of the group, Bumblebee was the boy's caretaker and closest friend, and Ironhide had to know in order to protect them all from any threats. He also knew Sam was closest to the original four of them who had landed first. The others could be informed later when they determined how to handle this. 

Ratchet closed the doors behind them, and turned to the table where Sam lay. The boy seemed calm and peaceful, his face still slightly pale, but in general unharmed on the surface. They gathered around him as Ratchet regarded the human solemnly. "I don't believe he's in any danger." He finally spoke up. "However, that doesn't mean there's no complications. Bumblebee told me Sam entered the wreckage and appeared to connect with Barricade. As far as I know, Barricade could not control the Allspark's power. So whatever he did, Sam did on his own." He glanced up at the group, not smiling. He paused a moment.

"Sam appears to have a spark residing in his central chest cavity."

There was a general intake of air from the three others present, though Bumblebee seemed the least surprised, his door-wings lowering a bit obviously having expected to hear that news. Ironhide folded his arms, staring down at the human, while Optimus appeared thoughtful, studying him carefully.

"So what does that mean?" Ironhide finally spoke up, sounding rather impatient. "He's got his own soul, he doesn't need a spark."

"True." Ratchet said with a small nod. "But I don't believe the spark is his to keep. It appears that the Allspark has created something like a spark casing inside him, but unlike our own which are designed thin in order to allow the energy to transmit out into our bodies, this one is solidly contained and being fueled with energy to keep it alive." He folded his arms matter-of-factly over his chassis. "My guess is that keeping two souls alive at once is too difficult for the still recovering Allspark, so it's focusing on keeping the spark alive, and diverting power to do just that, which means Sam's going to be in stasis until this situation is resolved."

"What's that mean?" Ironhide asked with a puzzled frown.

"It means..." Optimus said in a slow quiet voice. "Sam risked his life to save Barricade however he could... even if his body didn't survive, his spark still beats... protected within the boy." His optics shifted thoughtfully to Ratchet who nodded in agreement. Optimus shook his head slowly. "Sam..." He murmured quietly. "...truly a selfless thing to do."

"So what's going to happen to Sam?" Bumblebee asked worriedly. "He's not going to wake up?"

"My guess is, not until we find a way to relieve him of the spark he's protecting." Ratchet said thoughtfully.

"How will we do that?" Bumblebee asked worriedly. 

"Well..." Ratchet said slowly. "I gave it some thought. My belief is that if we present it with another host capable of housing it, then the Allspark will find a way to transfer it, relieving Sam of his duty, and hopefully restoring him to normal."

"That's it, eh?" Ironhide growled. "Just build a new mech? That's easier said than done."

"Can you do it, Ratchet?" Optimus asked calmly ignoring his weapons specialist's wry comment.

"Yes." Ratchet said slowly. "It will take time, and some improvisation considering this planet doesn't have parts readily available. However, I believe I can do it with the remains from Barricade if I melt down the metal to weld new ones. There's nothing left that I can use processor and function-wise, it will all have to be scrapped and re-welded into new ones, unfortunately." He sighed with obvious regret. "I'm going to need the materials to do it and I'll need help, as well as supplies from our allies and volunteers willing to donate energon that I can duplicate." His optics lifted solemnly. "It's going to take time, however." He warned. "I can't do it overnight."

"How much time?"

"Six months to a year, minimum. And that's IF I get all the supplies I need in a timely manner."

Optimus let out a slow breath, putting one hand to his faceplaces in a human gesture of frustration. "And will Sam remain stable for that long?"

"My guess, yes." Ratchet said shrugging. "His body isn't dependant on organic foods anymore, so he won't suffer from any nutrient loss, there's still sufficient energy being distributed through his body to sustain him indefinitely. He'll just be in stasis for the entire time." He shook his head. "I wouldn't worry about Sam's condition. Likely enough once we get the spark transferred out, he'll wake up and wonder why we're hovering over him." He glanced up. "There is however, one more problem." The three focused their attention on the medic. "What form are we to give the spark?"

"That is a good question." Optimus mused. 

"Why's it a problem?" Ironhide asked, frowning. "You got Barricade's schematics on file."

"True." Ratchet said slowly, glancing at his commander, who gave a small nod. "However, Optimus and I uncovered what Barricade was supposedly hiding from us. It seems the spark residing within him was not the original spark he came on-line with." At both Bee's and Ironhides' blank expressions, the medic elaborated. "Optimus and I surmise that the spark was the recipient of a forced transplant at Decepticon hands, and may have been an Autobot prisoner."

"What!" Ironhide barked, his optics wide in surprise, while Bee gave a nervous warble, staring at them with equal surprise.

"It's just a guess." Ratchet said with a sigh. "But now that Barricade's processors have been destroyed, that spark won't have any of his memories to rely on anyway, it will be an unbiased spark given a second chance at life." He rubbed his hands together with a thoughtful look. "Right now our best bet is to build a generic protoform. I won't have a lot of the more complex upgrades right away as it is. I can do personal alterations later as we find out more of what his specifics are."

Everyone was silent for a while. Then Optimus spoke. "I believe it is imperative that Sam remain here for the duration of this process. Ratchet, I will place you in charge of his care. See he is safe and comfortable. I will ask the others for their assistance however they wish to give it." He hesitated. "And yes, Wheeljack is a competent inventor, just keep him away from anything flammable." There was a low growl from the medic. "Ironhide, you will speak to Captain Lennox and see what materials we can get from our allies per Ratchets request. Take whomever with you that you require for transport. Bumblebee…" he glanced to the scout who straightened respectfully, despite his door-wings slumping a bit. "…I realize this is a difficult time, but have faith that Sam will be in no danger. Take care of Mikaela and keep in touch with the Secretary of Defense on Simmons condition. I will speak with Sam's parents on this situation…" He said softly. 

Everyone was silent for a while as they absorbed this information. "We can only hope that Sam's sacrifice pays off with two lives that we can embrace into our ranks…"


	32. Chapter 19: Recovery

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 19: Recovery**  
By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

The first thing he became aware of was the god-awful smell. It was that sterile foul stench of stale urine, disinfectant, and plastic. 

The beeping was the second thing that gave it away. That annoying steady rhythm that seemed to coincide with the painful pulsing in his head.

Great. He was in a hospital.

He cracked his eyes open and sure enough, saw bright florescent white lights humming over him. One of them was dimmer, flickering threatening to go out, the other made him want to shut his eyes again. Plus that splitting agony down his head didn't help the situation much. 

He heard movement to his left, and realized the beeping had changed pace. Someone was there and had noticed he was awake. He sighed faintly, giving up the pretense, and opened his eyes again. 

"Awake at last, eh?"

He didn't even grace the man with an answer, simply rolled his eyes, aware suddenly he had various breathing apparatus and tubes connected to him. Great. As if this day couldn't get worse…

Wait, why was he here in the first place?

"Hang tight. Be right back." The man said, unfamiliar as he rose into his field of vision, but that wasn't saying much. Any guy in a black suit and tie meant one thing: government. So, he simply lay there, trying to ignore the driving jackhammer assaulting his head. 

Luckily he didn't have to wait long, as a nurse walked swiftly into the room and leaned over him. "Well good morning. Nice to see you're awake, Mister Simmons. How are you feeling?" He didn't grace her with a reply, just made a sour face. "I'll take that as a meds request." She said matter-of-factly and began to inject something into the IV hooked up at his side. "There, that should help. Now let's see about removing these tubes." 

It was a long painstaking process, but luckily the morphine had it's desired effect and soon he was drifting off into a blissful fog. It wasn't until the light outside had faded that he began to drift back down into reality long enough to realize he wasn't hooked up to the apparatus anymore, and there was someone sitting in the nearby chair, reading a book calmly under a light. Simmons sighed. "…Keller." He murmured in what sounded to him the most strained pathetic tone he'd probably ever used. 

The man looked up, and stuck a bookmark to hold his place, then stood and walked over to his bedside. "Reg." He said, a small smile gracing his aging features. "Good to see you're awake."

"Feel like shit, John."

"You look like shit." The man replied honestly, reaching back and pulling the chair over so he could sit down beside the man. "But you look a hell of a lot better now than you did three months ago."

Pause. "Damn. Been out three months?"

"Just about. Gave us all quite something to think of, I'll tell you that. Half the people who brought flowers in here seemed to have brought them to wish you an un-happy recovery." A wry smile graced the Secretary of Defenses' face, as his blue eyes twinkled. 

"Up yours, sir."

"See you haven't changed." John Keller chuckled. "So, other than the obvious, how are you feeling?"

Simmons let his eyes shut. "Three months? What's the damage?"

"Well, broken arm seems to be on the mend well enough. Doctors had to put some plates in, you shattered it so badly. But they say no loss of function once you get some therapy. You took a hard hit to your head, split it open. You're one lucky bastard to be alive, you know."

"Figured that." He muttered. "Nothing permanent?"

"Not unless you count your lack of humor."

"Hah, hah." He said tonelessly. "Enough Bull, John. Why are you here?"

John Keller frowned at that, all humor in the situation gone. "You remember much of what happened, Reg?"

Simmons closed his eyes. Everything still swum foggily around his head. He could pick up images, mostly a lot of explosions and fire involved, as well as plenty of cursing. "Big ass damn battle." He mumbled. "That's about it."

"Yeah…" Keller said quietly. "You're right about that." He leaned back in the chair, folding his arms in front of his face, with a distant solemn look. "In the last three months, dozens of power facilities, research facilities, and civilian areas have been targeted by apparent random and violent attacks. The first happened an hour before you were met by missiles on the highway. You and your partner were targeted in an all-out assault by our resident enemies before they withdrew." His eyes lifted slowly to stare at Simmons. "Hundreds died, Reg. After that, thousands more. We can't anticipate where they'll strike next, as we can't figure out what the pattern to their attacks are. No amount of military presence seems to matter, they slip in and slip out with devastating consequences."

Simmons blinked blankly at the man, his foggy mind having trouble accepting this, but he didn't question it's validity. It rang true with something he couldn't remember… something he'd talked about with someone… He blinked again. "The Seekers." He muttered quietly.

"What?" Keller leaned forward, his blue eyes intense.

"Seekers…'s what he called them." Simmons said slowly. "Some kind of …. Jets… F-22's I think."

Keller studied him then nodded slowly. "We've had a couple survivors from the various attacks… some talk about jets attacking, but some say it was ground vehicles."

Simmons frowned. "Dunno bout that." He didn't seem to remember any surviving ground-runners. His eyes snapped back to Keller. "My partner?"

Keller lowered his eyes with a frown on his face, then glanced up at Simmons. "I'm sorry, Reg." He said quietly. "Nothing they could do." Simmons let his eyes close with a small sigh. "…but there's a complication with that." 

He opened his eyes again, staring at the man with a frown. "I don't like complications, John."

"You ARE a complication." John replied chuckling dryly. That earned him a small twitch of a smile. He sobered a bit. "We'll talk about that later. Right now, we need you to rest, get back your strength then tell us everything you can remember. Even the smallest detail could be very important."

He didn't try to nod, knowing it would just aggravate his headache. "Right."

"Rest up then." John patted his shoulder lightly. "I'll be in to see you later." And with that, he took his leave in time for the nurse to return with her dose of heavenly sleep.

Time had little meaning to him as most of the days he spent wondering how many dots were on the ceiling, trying to count then losing his place as the morphine took effect again. But eventually, he was deemed well enough to sit up in bed, propped up with various pillows, and permitted to watch TV. He soon discovered why Keller had been such a frequent visitor, as the busy streets of Washington D.C. greeted his eyes when the nurse opened the curtains the first day. He had actually been a little surprised to see someone HAD actually left flowers. They were a bit dried out, but genuine. He'd spent half a day wondering who actually gave a crap about him that much. Simmons had no living family. His parents had passed away from natural causes years ago, and he had no siblings, and no living distant relatives that he was aware of. He'd never been able to land himself a gal, and probably never would. So who had brought the flowers?

The answer presented himself about a month after he woke up, as he was idly watching the Dukes of Hazard on a mid-day re-run, when a familiar face walked into his room, followed by an unfamiliar one. 

"Well well well." Simmons blinked over at the dark-haired girl who stood defiantly facing him with a look of frustration on her face. "If it isn't the delinquent girlfriend. Dump the extortionist kid so soon?"

"Shut up, Simmons." Mikaela said crossly, her expression sour. 

Simmons raised an eyebrow, but to her surprise, didn't make another wry comment, as he'd noticed she looked probably worse than he did. Her face was pale and thin, drawn as if she hadn't been sleeping well with large dark bags under her eyes. His gaze shifted to the unfamiliar face, a young man who appeared several years older than the girl, short spiked hair that annoying surfer bleach blonde, wearing a black leather jacket and stylish sunglasses with the most annoying shade of yellow shirt he'd ever seen. As Simmons stared at him, his expression turned dark, and he seemed to radiate hostility. 

Interesting. 

"We're not here because we want to be." Mikaela said, stopping beside his bed as he hit mute on the TV. The boy remained behind her, arms folded defiantly as if he were daring Simmons to say something so he could pound on him. 

"Great." Simmons casually lay his good arm over his abdomen. "So to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"We need to know what you remember." The boy spoke up suddenly. 

Simmons frowned. The voice didn't fit the boy, it was too old…with a distinct English lilt to the speech, and incredibly formal. "Remember? I don't think I know who you are, kid." He said casually, though his tone was guarded.

Mikaela smiled darkly. "Oh you know him."

"Really?"

"Yes. You nearly dissected him on your table back at the Hoover Dam."

Simmons eyes snapped up, as the boy peered at him from over the dark glasses with incredibly piercing blue eyes. A strange feeling clenched in his gut suddenly at the same time a shiver ran down his spine. "Oh… right." He said uncomfortable under the intense gaze. He did a double-take. "Wait… how?" He asked, glancing out the window. "We're on the fifth floor."

"Mobile transmitter." Mikaela offered, patting her hip where Simmons saw something that could have easily passed as an iPod clipped to her belt. Only, the front of it was glowing blue. "It's a little gadget they invented while you were in la-la-land."

"Nice." Simmons said, genuinely impressed. "Well…" He said slowly. "I'm not sure I can enlighten you to much more than I told Keller, but…" He shrugged lightly, taking care not to aggravate his head injury. It was going to be a while till that was healed. "And seeing as I'm so busy at the moment…" He smiled wryly. "…I suppose I don't mind the company."

"Good." Mikaela said, taking her purse and plopping it on the chair, and dropping the transmitter casually on top. "You two have fun. I'm going to grab a bite."

Simmons blinked. "Wait… what?"

She simply smirked at him, and shut the door behind her. 

Simmons nervously glanced to the blonde youth. "Uh…" he said intelligently. Alone in a room with this thing? "You're still just a light projection, right?"

As if to answer his question, the youth's hologram flickered. "Do not worry. I would not harm you, Agent Simmons, though I cannot say you reciprocate the claim."

"Still haven't forgiven me for that, eh?" He asked with a small sigh. The NBE didn't reply, and simply stood at his bedside, arms crossed, watching him with a cool calm expression. "All right, fine. What do you want to know?" Best get this over with. 

"What exactly occurred on the day you were attacked? Anything you can provide will be appreciated, no matter how small the detail."

Simmons sighed. "Right…" Well, there was no sense hiding anything from these guys, after all the last thing he wanted was to annoy them and have Keller re-assign him to their base on a permanent basis. "We were following a signal." He said thoughtfully. "It wasn't anything specific, so he told me but I doubt it was that simple. We tracked it to Los Angeles."

"What kind of signal?"

"Not sure, he wouldn't share specifics." Simmons sighed. "But he didn't seem concerned about it, merely curious." He glanced once up to the youth who gave no indication of his emotions, and simply nodded for him to continue. "We talked about a few of the other NBE's who…er, sorry…" Simmons was quick to correct himself as he received a dangerous glare. "…Decepticons that is, who might be coming or already here."

"Did he say who was here?"

"Didn't know, but he suspected that the Seekers were… um…" He frowned trying to remember the names.

"Thundercracker and Skywarp?" 

"Yeah that was it." Simmons said, glad the names rang a bell. "He thought they might be there… asked him about some others but I don't recall their names… ones he didn't care for either way, if that means anything." The youth nodded slowly. "Then he just jammed on the breaks all of a sudden… made me spill my damned coffee everywhere." Simmons grimaced. "He wouldn't say why, but suddenly we're tearing off across four lanes of traffic, he's bustin' through the plants and we're skidding down the road on the other side tearin' rubber." He glanced up at the youth, watching him intently. "He said someone had taken out his communications, and my cell phone wouldn't work. He also claimed we didn't have time to fight through red-tape to get a call in to you guys."

At this news, the youth's eyes widened slowly, though his face remained calm. Simmons had the feeling if he'd been keen on human expressions he might have paled. "Did he say who it was?"

"He wouldn't say much after that, let alone a name." Simmons said a low voice. "You know anyone who can jam frequencies?"

"Yes." Was the quiet reply. 

"Let me guess, real ugly kinda guy?"

"The worst." The youth replied, his expression now troubled. "Please continue."

"Anyway, we booked it back there record time… helped he put on his lights to get us through traffic and avoid speed traps." Simmons mused. "The only thing I remember him telling me was something about that cube thing… and that the NB… er Decepticons knew about it."

At that, the youth's arms dropped to his side, and a definite look of shock played over his face. "You're certain?"

"Yeah, pretty sure." He peered up at him. "Why's this such a big deal? I thought the cube was gone."

The youth didn't reply, instead seeming to be inwardly pensive. When he finally spoke again, it was quieter, more reserved. "He was most likely subjected to a mind-probe. They took all the knowledge stored in his processors. Everything he knew, they now know. This is most troubling."

"Mind probe?" Simmons said, looking incredulous. "You guys can do that?"

"I cannot, nor any of my allies." Was the reply. "However, there is one among their ranks who has that ability."

"Great. As if things weren't weird enough." He muttered. 

"I apologize for the interruption, please continue."

Simmons frowned, but did as he was asked. "Well, after that… missiles came out of nowhere just out of Mission City, when we were almost back." He sighed, closing his eyes. "There wasn't much we could do after that but bust tails. I had him take us out of the city, away from civilians… too many deaths within seconds…" His voice was heavy. Despite being a royal-pain-in-the-aft to most who knew him, Simmons did have a moral nature. The deaths weighed on his conscience heavily. "We managed to get them out of the city proper onto open road, but they ran him too hard and…" He winced. "Well… I'm certain you all saw the result."

"Indeed." Came the quiet response. "We discovered you unconscious and in grave danger of early termination."

"Yeah… guessed that." Simmons said quietly. 

"Did you manage to see who exactly attacked you?"

"Three F-22's with sporty paint jobs." He replied solemnly. "He told me it was those Seekers." He glanced over to the thoughtful youth. "He saved my life. And about twenty others."

"What?" Blue eyes snapped up in surprise. 

"He could have run, tried to lose them. He was injured, but I had the feeling he could have lost them with a little luck. Instead, he held his ground giving me time to empty a bus-load of kids, then threw me out of the way to safety before they took him down."

Bright blue eyes studied him intently, as if the NBE wasn't sure he was telling the truth, but when Simmons didn't back his gaze down, a strange expression crossed his features. "Thank you, Agent Simmons for telling me this." 

"Is he really gone?" Simmons asked solemnly, not breaking eye contact. "That asshole saved my life. I owe him a stern talking to."

To his surprise, there was a faint smile on the young man's face. "He probably did it to annoy you."

"Damn straight he did." Simmons scowled.

"Unfortunately, his body was utterly destroyed. There is only scrap left." There was a pause as Simmons frowned in disappointment, but the next words surprised the former S7 agent. "…however, his spark survived the attack."

Simmons blinked up at him. Spark… that was their 'heart and soul' to speak of, and he knew it powered their systems. They had examined the Big One's spark when they'd had him frozen, not that they'd learned much as the casing that protected it was too difficult for them to penetrate, and tended to lash out with blue energy against anyone that had tried to touch it. "How is that possible?"

"Sam did it." The answer had obvious pride there. 

"The kid?"

"Yes."

"Delinquent Wickety kid?"

"Witwicky."

"Whatever." Simmons stared at him incredulously. "How's that possible."

"Sam absorbed the Allspark's powers." Was the quiet reply. "That is the information that Barricade was so alarmed being taken from his mind. With this knowledge, the Decepticons will no doubt attempt to use it to their advantage."

"Damn." Simmons murmured. "Wait… the kid's got that cube's radiation?"

"Yes."

"How is that even possible?" He demanded. "Our scientists worked for years on that thing, no one ever had more than a slight headache from being around it."

"None of your scientists directly used it's power either."

"True." Simmons admitted. They'd hooked up all kinds of gadgets to it, but no one'd ever been harmed touching it, though a few had been seriously injured when some of their experiments backfired. That kid had somehow managed to get the thing to work in his hands, killing NBE-1 in the process of destroying said object. He felt an odd twinge in his chest. "Kid's ok though, right?"

"More or less." Was the sudden tense answer, and he glanced up to see the youth frowning, an expression of concern on his features now. "He is in a coma. However, our medic believes he is in no current danger."

Simmons let out a low breath with a small whistle. "Damn…. Sorry to hear that. The kid had guts… I'm sure he'll pull through, he's a tough one."

"Yes, he is." Agreed Bumblebee quietly. 

The door opened as Mikaela walked back in with a couple burritos in hand, offering one to Simmons. "You two enjoy your chat?"

"Oh yes." Simmons said dryly, accepting the food, then hesitated. "This is poisoned isn't it?"

She just smiled, and took a bite of her own burrito. 


	33. Chapter 20: What Dreams May Come

_**How it Is**  
**Chapter 20: What Dreams May Come**_

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Sam opened his eyes blearily, feeling strangely warm and comfortable. The sunshine was streaming in through his window in bright rays, falling on his face. He yawned and rolled over, stretching as he sat up and wandering to the window. It was a cheerful day, sunny and warm, with a small wash of breeze drifting in at him. The kind of day you usually skipped school for. He poked his head out looking for Bumblebee, and was a little surprised to find the parking spot empty. "Huh. Musta gone out. Wait, what day is it?" Sam scrambled and grabbed his clock staring at it blankly. It was past 8! Crap, he'd over slept! Panicked, he grabbed his book bag at the foot of his bed and bolted out the door, glad he apparently had fallen asleep in his clothing last night, as he bolted down the sidewalk at a full run. "Crapcrapcrap, stupid!" He was missing math, not that it was a huge issue but still... He tore around the corner of his block and skidded to a halt as a car nearly slammed into his knees as he dashed out into the street. "Sorry!" He cried out, twirling around and dashing across the street, continuing towards school.

The day passed as it usually did, with Sam half falling asleep through most of his classes. Trent would throw spit wads at the back of his head while Mikaela winked at him from the side of the desks, Miles egging him on between classes… Sam kept glancing out the window, wishing that he were anywhere else but school, boring school. The sunshine outside kept calling him like a siren's song, as if trying to lure him away from the routine he faced day in and day out. He was tempted, but in the end just turned back to his studies and let the day pass by without much complaint. When finally the bell rang, he cheerfully waved to the others, but soon found himself walking out the front door of the school by himself, as the other students seemed to vanish into the background, silence encompassing his exit as he slowly strode out into the bright sunshine-filled yard. He glanced around, but saw no usual waiting car to pick him up, so sank down on the curb and pulled out his iPod, listening to some music with a tap of his feet as he waited, patient and certain that someone would eventually arrive as they always did.

He didn't have to wait long, for a shadow fell over his feet, and a quick glance up showed him a door opening in front of him. He jumped up, shoving his music player in his backpack and slid into the front seat without hesitation, shutting the door behind him. "Hey." He said cheerfully, not batting an eye at the unoccupied steering wheel moving on it's own as the car pulled out of the school parking lot with it's passenger.

"Good afternoon, Sam." The tenor voice was calm and cool, pleasant and familiar to his ears. "How was school?"

"Oh the usual." What was his name again….? It was on the tip of his tongue.

"I have something special to show you today, Sam." The voice continued calmly as they turned up the hill heading out of town. It was a fine spring day, so everything around them was bright green, dappled with the flourish of colored flowers. "As way of thanking you for what you have done."

"Cool." Sam grinned, leaning back in the comfortable seat, then paused. "Wait, what'd I do?"

"You don't remember?"

"Uhhhh…. Nope, nothing comes to mind."

"Take a look." And with that the car reached the top of the hill overlooking his favorite spot, the overlook. It was brightly covered in wildflowers and long grass swaying in the wind, the oak tree full of leaves that swayed in a gentle wind. And standing there were a gathering of familiar faces, all watching them as they approached. The car stopped, and Sam slowly opened the door, stepping out and smiling at the sight.

"What's all this?"

"Those are the ones who owe you their life."

"Oh." Sam blinked, as his eyes scanned the lineup, his heart swelling with pride suddenly. Bumblebee stood smiling at him, waving cheerily, the very first on the end. Next to him, oddly enough, Jazz leaned casually against the tree, giving him a thumbs up. Beside him stood Ironhide, tall and formal with his arms tucked behind his back casually as he gave Sam a curt nod. Ratchet stood beside him, shrugging a bit as if not certain why the weapons specialist was being so grumpy again. Optimus towered over them both, his optics shining with pride as he smiled down at Sam kindly. Next to him stood Cliffjumper, Wheeljack and Hound all who greeted him with thumbs up and waves. But then, Sam paused. Two familiar faces stood next to the scientists, the bright red one elbowing the golden one, and getting a rough shove back for his trouble before shrugging to Sam in apology.

Sam blinked in confusion. "Wait… I haven't saved the Twins lives…or Jazz…unless you mean indirectly…" His eyes slid over to the remaining mechs. All their faces were familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. A slim blue mech whose arms were crossed defiantly, a smaller black and pink mech who waved merrily at him, a mech who looked oddly familiar in a strange kind of way with a white body and 'Mike's' wording visible on one side of his plating, another mech who was squatter and surly, arms crossed with a grumpy expression, a medium sized mech with a calm expression, then two very familiar faces, a tiny bouncing silver figure with green optics, and a larger one covered in bright green panels who waved all four arms at him. The one on the end was a huge shocker, and by huge Sam meant LITERALLY. He had to crane his neck up to stare up at the face which was kind and smiling down at him, black paneled body not reflecting the light of the sunshine, but the silver mechanisms underneath polished to a mirror reflection. Oh right, the new guy Skyfire, he'd not really met him yet. The even weirder thing was, next to the big guy, standing slightly separate from the others, were two mechs who clearly had wings on their bodies and were so familiar that Sam almost took a reflexive step back. Both of them had glowing red optics, glaring at him disdainfully. Wasn't that…one of the Decepticons? Two of them? Sam blinked and realized that the lineup kept going… but he couldn't see the others as close, as the line drifted off into a strange empty fog that hovered off into the distance.

The tell-tale sign of a transformation behind him made Sam turn, in time to see a silver mech protoform standing up from a kneeling position moving to stand beside him. His head swiveled back down to regard the human, optics a soft blue studying him. Sam's mind itched as he desperately tried to match a name to the face… it was right there… right on the tip of his brain. "You have saved everyone here, Sam."

"No I haven't." Sam said again, confused as he glanced at his friends once more. "I haven't even SEEN some of those guys on the end… but…" He blinked. "I feel like I know them somehow."

"You do know them." The reply came calmly. "You just haven't met them yet."

"Wha…?" Sam's brain caught on that detail. "Yet?"

"They are those who owe you their lives, both in the past, the present and the future."

"The future? But…uh.. the future hasn't happened yet."

"That's right."

"Then…this is a dream."

"Not precisely." And with that, the images of his friends slowly dissolved, leaving the two alone on the cliff under the swaying oak. The mech strode calmly to the edge of the cliff, hands tucked behind him in a casual stride, as Sam jogged to keep up, staring down at the valley spread out beneath them filled with houses, twinkling lights of car windows on the freeway, and a crystal clear view all the way to the city. "A dream is merely a figment of the imagination. This is no figment, this is a glimpse into that which no other being can have, and live to speak of."

Sam's throat caught abruptly. "You mean… I'm dead?"

The mech laughed in a low dry chuckle. "No, you are not dead Sam, far from it." His head turned towards the boy again, solemn but still with a hint of a smile. "Rather, you are glimpsing into the vast boundary that lies beyond death, that which you are now connected to through the Allspark."

Sam's forehead wrinkled. "Uh…"

"The Matrix." The mech prompted gently. "The 'afterlife', that where all life spawns. Each race has a different name for it, but it essentially is the same across the universe. It links 'what was' to 'what is' and 'what will be'."

Sam's head spun a little at this, but he moved over to stare out at the open landscape around them, feeling the soft gentle warmth of the wind brush his cheeks. "Ok… this is way too deep for me."

"Understandable. Most cannot even begin to grasp it."

"You can." Sam pointed out.

"Yes, however that is because I have lived on the brink of the Matrix's hold for a very long time." The mech regarded him steadily. "You do not yet understand it, but you will eventually."

"Yeah." Sam said rubbing his head awkwardly. "All this metaphysical stuff is messing with my brain."

"Sam….!"

Sam turned glancing around as he heard a voice call to him. "Someone's calling…"

"Then you must go to them." The mech replied calmly.

Sam peered up at him again, trying to pin a name to him. "Will I see you again?"

"I guarantee it." The promise came with a single nod, before everything faded away into white light, as distortion appeared before him in a twist of colors, black and yellow that materialized to form a familiar face filled with concern.

"Sam!" Bumblebee stepped out of nothingness to appear before him, optics wide with concern.

"Hey Bee." Sam blinked a bit surprised at his friend's sudden alarm. "What's up?"

"Thank goodness I found you. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good." Sam shrugged, scratching his nose. "You look freaked out, what's wrong?"

Bumblebee tilted his head a bit, obviously not having expected this reply. "You have been in a state of stasis."

Sam blinked. "Really? What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Bee sounded concerned, on the verge of panic.

Sam thought about it carefully. What had happened? His brain was fuzzy over the details, still racing from the strange encounter he'd just had. Then suddenly it all came rushing back to him as if someone had turned on a switch. Suddenly the white room turned to open highway, littered with craters and smoking rubble as Sam looked up with alarm. "Oh… right… there was that big ass battle, and…." His eyes slid over to the figure laying crumpled in the large impact zone. "…Barricade."

"Yes." Bumblebee seemed to relax, his door-wings sinking a bit as the tension left his body. "You attempted to do something…and placed yourself in stasis-lock."

Oh…right… he'd reached for that glowing thing. It clicked. "Yeah." Sam said quietly. "I took his spark… I think." He looked up at Bee for clarification.

His guardian nodded. "Yes Sam… you did. The spark you saved is currently residing within your body, keeping you from regaining consciousness. Ratchet believes there is no danger to you, however you will not wake until we move it to a host of it's own."

"Makes sense." Sam said, nodding a bit. "So what's the problem?"

"We must build one first." Bee replied with a small sigh. "It will take time."

"That's ok. I'm not like, uncomfortable here or anything." Sam pointed out, glancing around the empty road, as it shifted to be replaced with the familiar scene of his house.

"I am glad to see that you are in good condition, Sam."

"You came to visit me just to make sure I was ok?" He grinned widely. "Bee, you shouldn't have."

"I had to." Bumblebee said with a small shrug, though a sheepish posture hung about his frame. "I was concerned for your well-being."

"Well don't be, I'm fine." Sam reassured his friend with a warm smile. He'd never seen Bee so worked up before. "Um… how are my parents and Mikaela and Miles taking it?"

"They are worried, but trust in Ratchets care."

"Bet that went over well." He murmered.

Bumblebee's form flickered a little, as if it were an unstable hologram, and the scout quickly glanced back to Sam. "I cannot stay much longer. Ratchet will pull me back if either of our systems destabilize… Sam, we will work quickly to do what we can, but you may be here for a while."

"It's ok… do what you can." Sam said smiling and shoving his hands in his pockets casually. "I can hang. Tell everyone I'm fine."

"Good luck…" Bumblebee offered before his figure flickered out of existence entirely, as the connection was severed.


	34. Chapter 21: Partners

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 21: Partners  
**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

_Author's note: Apologies for the long delays, but I recently got a promotion to a senior position which now has me working day shifts and longer hours, leaving less time for writing. So updates will be slower, but don't worry I won't and haven't lost gumption on this story. _

* * *

There were many times when Simmons wished he'd chosen that desk job at NSA after college.

This was one of those times.

He had been asked to co-ordinate his actions with the Autobots directly, and still report to Keller. The question was, would they treat him with as much respect as he'd extended them when they had first arrived?

Somehow he didn't think so.

At least they'd been thoughtful in sending someone who was impartial to his presence. While there were all kinds of stories about what he and Sector 7 had done to Bumblebee, they had sent the large jet to ferry him from Washington back to Nevada. Skyfire was at least a friendly sort, and did not seem to hold any animosity towards him, though was a bit disapproving at his past methods. They had a decent chat on the flight over, and by the time they circled around in the empty desert outside Tranquility, they had a friendly repertoire going. However, that didn't stop Simmons from nearly losing his lunch when they dove at the apparent solid ground in what seemed to be a suicide run. It was only after he didn't feel the jarring impact that he opened his eyes to see them slowly coasting over a wide tarmac in a holographically hidden base. He let his breath out with a wheeze, feeling glad for the supplied oxygen in his mask as he didn't quite unbuckle it yet.

Skyfire was patient in helping him out of the jet, as his arm was still rather sore and stiff. It probably wasn't exceptionally good for his head to be pulling G's again, but the mech had taken it easy on him. When Simmons finally exited the cockpit, the large mech transformed again, and bit him farewell politely, turning to head off to wherever he was needed, as two other mechs approached Simmons on the empty tarmac.

"Agent Simmons." Optimus Prime said solemnly, his optics focused down on the man with a cool regard, not impolite but still distant. "I am pleased to see you have recovered well from your injuries."

"Thanks." Simmons said uncomfortably, carefully pulling the flight helmet off his head and peering up at the tall alien leader. His eyes slid uncomfortably over to the rather glowering optics of their burly weapons specialist. "I um… appreciate you allowing me on your base."

"We are allies, Agent Simmons." Optimus replied solemnly. "Your assistance in defeating the Decepticons has proven your ability to be trusted. However, I must remind you that while none will harm you here, you should take care not to fall on anyone's bad side."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"Follow us, and we will escort you to your temporary quarters. They are not much, but Captain Lennox and his team has worked to make the human section more hospitable."

Simmons raised an eyebrow. Well, at least humans had adapted these rooms, and not the mechs. He dared to wonder what kind of 'hospitable' things would show up in a mech designed facility. Nonetheless, he walked swiftly to keep up with them. "How's the kid?" he asked after a while. It seemed polite to ask, and Simmons had to admit, the kid had balls. He did actually care what happened to him. He'd fought well, from what he'd heard.

"Sam is the same." Optimus replied as he slowed to keep pace with the human's quick steps. "Fortunately Ratchet does not believe it will be much longer before we are able to attempt a spark transplant."

Simmons nodded. He hadn't understood most of what he'd been told about the kid's condition, and had a feeling he'd be better off not knowing anyway. But he did hope that everything went well. "How about my partner?" he asked slowly. "Keller didn't say if I was getting a new one or not, given his condition."

"At the moment his situation is uncertain." Optimus said thoughtfully. "His spark lives, but after the transplant he will have no recollection of any of his experiences."

"No memories?" Simmons blinked. "At all?"

"Ratchet is programming his processors with basic functions, history of our world, earth culture, languages and necessary survival data, however any personal memories will be non-existent. He will have to forge new memories, new bonds with those he wishes to consider friends and comrades. We will work with him to bring his training up to spec, however depending how things go, it may be advantageous that he spends time with a human contact to better acclimate. However, we must take this one step at a time. It may be some time until I judge him fit for any kind of duty at all."

"Well that's just fine with me." Simmons said, tenderly touching his head. The bandages were gone, but he still had several deep ugly scars on his recovering shaved head. "I'm off duty for another few months at minimum."

"Just don't cause trouble." Ironhide cut in with a rumbling growl. "The Twins already know all about you. Avoid them. You'll live longer."

_Mental note, twins are bad_, Simmons thought.

He pushed the door to the human wing open, and found himself in an unusually comfortable rec room of sorts. There were several old sofas gathered around a table, a TV on the wall that looked as if it had been pulled out of storage from the 70's, a billiards table, and a few books in a barren metal shelf. It was empty for the moment, so Simmons stepped inside and wandered about. There was a full kitchen stocked with some basic food ingredients, a row of showers without any fluff or privacy, and a narrow row of bunks. As he entered the bunk room, two heads glanced up from reclining. One belonged to the military man previously mentioned, the other one of his men. They both regarded him calmly before Lennox sat up and slid out of the bunk. "Simmons." He said with a small smirk on his lips. The last time they'd talked face to face it had been at gunpoint.

"Lennox." Simmons said in the same smirking tone, his lips twitching.

Lennox's eyes roamed over the ex-Sector 7 agent. "You look like shit."

"Thank you." He said wryly, throwing his duffel bag into a neat and unused bunk. He heard a snort from the black man reading a book, and shot him a glance. Epps ignored him.

"You remember Air Force Technical Sergeant Robert Epps." Lennox said in way of introduction. Epps raised a hand, but didn't grace him with a glance. "And Army Chief Warrant Officer Jorge Figueroa." He pointed to the lump under blankets snoring softly. "He had a rough night."

Simmons raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"

Lennox shot him a glare. "In case you forgot, we're not exactly sitting on our asses while the 'cons shoot up the nation."

"Right." Simmons said frowning slightly.

"Anyway…" He eyed him warily. "While you're on this base, you're under my jurisdiction, private contracted agent or not, you follow my rules or you don't stay."

Simmons felt his neck bristling. He HATED taking orders. But he had little choice. "Yes… sir."

Lennox smirked at that, and slid back into his bunk. "You're off duty for now, I hear. So get acclimated with the base." He leaned back and shut his eyes, going back into nap mode.

Simmons glanced at the three and sighed slightly. "I'll do that." He said, turning and walking out. He could unpack later… right now he didn't want to be around those three. Men in a unit were an unbreakable bonded team… he was just going to be a third wheel. Besides, he wanted to see just what kind of trouble he'd gotten himself into. He strode out of the human building, and stared around at the base for a moment. He could hear all kinds of noises that just didn't register as normal to his ears, vibrating footfalls that shook the ground, loud banging, strange whirring and grinding… the base was alive with action in all directions. He slowly strode about, keeping an eye peeled. He still didn't trust these things much, who knew when they would grow careless and step on the small flesh creatures running about at their feet. But his curiosity was still fairly strong. Having studied the effects of the cube's radiation for years, and seen what it could create, he knew that there was still much he didn't know, especially when it came to the 'big ones'.

"Watch out, moving through." Came a voice behind him, and Simmons quickly jumped closer to the building wall he was shadowing, as a hazmat vehicle sped by him then put on it's breaks suddenly and backed up closer to his position. "Oh, you're the new guy." Came a curious voice, and as Simmons watched, the vehicle began to unfold and twist to form into a bipedal green and white mech who regarded him with curious blue optics.

_Damn… that's cool no matter how many times I see it…_ "Simmons." He replied in way of introduction, belatedly realizing it was probably expected.

"Wheeljack." The mech introduced himself, offering a large finger down to shake, which Simmons bemusedly did. "I believe that Ratchet is inquiring of your whereabouts. He wishes to speak with you."

"Ratchet…" Simmons ran the name through his head. "The medic?"

"Yes. He is back that way, second building next to the human wing." Wheeljack offered helpfully. "I can take you there if you wish."

"Thanks, I'll find it on my own." Simmons nodded, waving to the mech who shrugged, and turned, walking the direction he'd been heading. It was interesting how these mechs had adapted to the human culture so quickly, he thought. He remembered when he'd first 'met' them, they seemed more detached, formal. Now they seemed casually comfortable with their new home and it's culture. He supposed it was inevitable, but still it was a strange detached feeling of living in a twilight zone that wrapped around his head. He supposed he just had to get used to it.

He followed Wheeljack's directions and soon found the building indicated by the giant red cross on white shield emblazoned on the hangar door. If that wasn't a doctor's office, he was a school teacher. He slid in through the open gap and immediately wondered if he should turn right around and leave. There was apparently an argument ensuing.

"I don't CARE how many excuses you come up with! If you so much as DENT that pesky flashy armor of yours ONE more time, I personally will pry it off your recharging body and throw it into the shredder!" There was a loud clang, followed by a bellow of protest. "Can it!" The retort was sharp. "Can't you two carry out an operation without tearing holes in systems! You KNOW we're short on supplies!"

"But Ratchet…!" Came a protesting voice. "It was STARSCREAM! Come on! We couldn't help but tag-team him and his cronies!"

"Yes you could!" The reply snapped. "You know you're hopelessly outgunned against those flying morons. It's your own fault for tearing your lines!"

"At least we did some damage in return." A different voice said smugly. CLANG. "OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR!"

"OUT BOTH OF YOU NOW!" Simmons flattened himself against the wall as a shuffle of loud metallic feet combined into two figures slinking out the door. They didn't see him, thankfully, as they were too busy avoiding a flung object that ricocheted off the wall next to the red one's head as he ducked. "DON'T COME BACK FOR ANOTHER CYCLE! Good for nothing pesky troublesome glitches." Simmons slowly detached himself from the wall and carefully made his way over to the medic, who was wiping his hands off on a large sheet of canvas that substituted for a rag. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. The medic looked up sharply, then frowned not seeing anyone, and his optics slid down. "Oh, it's you." He said flatly, obviously no more thrilled to see Simmons. "Bout time you got here." He pointed to a table. "Up, so I can talk to you."

Simmons raised an eyebrow, but made his way to the table, and climbed the ladder installed on the side. It was a bit unnerving being on such a tall platform as this, even more so seeing the tools and parts of twisted metal scattered on the table. "Rough day?" he asked conversationally.

"You have no idea." The medic grumbled. "The twins excel at getting into trouble." _Ah, so those were the twins,_ Simmons thought with a grimace. "Cost me hours of work, aft-headed sons of glitches, both of them." He swept the parts off the table into a bucket then sighed and turned back to Simmons. "Now…" He studied the man curiously. "I need to talk with you about what you know of your 'former' job."

Simmons mentally winced. _Oh wonderful._ "Right." He said aloud, crossing his arms. Another interrogation.

"I'm sure you've been brought up to date on how things have progressed." The medic offered thoughtfully. "Did Keller inform you of every detail?"

"Most of it, I think."

"Then can you assure me that there is no other shortfalls from your experiments with the Allspark?"

"Shortfalls?" Simmons frowned. "You mean any projects we did?" At the medics nod, he shook his head. "None. We didn't keep any of our specimens long, most of them were too violent to contain."

"Probably because they were created by men with violent tendencies." The medic growled disapprovingly. "Ever consider that?"

Simmons blinked. "What?"

"The Allspark knows it's surroundings. Trapped in an underground facility with men who are bent on creating weapons of war, it created exactly what you wanted, weapons of war. That's why you couldn't control them."

Simmons rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "You probably are right." He said slowly. It made sense, now that he knew more about this whole situation. "But we don't have anything else stored there, no secret projects, no live offshoots left."

"I surmised as much. Then, can you tell me why Starscream would order a full-scale attack on that facility, despite being abandoned?"

Simmons blinked. "What?" That hadn't been in his report. "When was this?"

"Yesterday." Ratchet growled. "That's why the twins were here, they happened to spot them, and tried to stop them. But they got away. We're not sure what they were after."

"Neither am I." Simmons frowned. _Unless…._ "It could have been the remains of that little one." He suggested slowly. "We locked it in cold storage. But it was dead."

"Nonetheless…" Ratchet mused. "Your government sent a team to do inventory, and they claimed that very little had been taken. Frenzy's remains apparently were among the list. But as you stated, a dead mechling is of little value. Anything else they might have wanted?"

"I can't imagine there would be anything else of use. We had records, data stored in files and on disk on our findings from NBE…. Er… Megatron."

"Hm." Ratchet mused. "That could also be part of it." He turned back to his computer. "Is there anything else we should know?"

"Not off the top of my head. Anything relevant was placed in the report."

"How about your personal knowledge?" Ratchet peered at him. "Experience with the radiation directly?"

"I'm afraid I didn't oversee the scientific studies directly." Simmons admitted. "I saw demonstrations, was there for security, but all research findings would be in those files that probably were stolen. But I can tell you directly, we didn't find much out from the thing itself other than what you already know. It was a mystery to our scientists. So they focused most of their findings on N... Megatron."

Ratchet humphed a bit, but nodded. "Very well. If you recall anything useful, I expect you to inform me."

"How is my partner?"

Ratchet shot him a curious glance. "You seem very concerned for him."

"He was an ass." Simmons rolled his eyes. "But for the short time we were teamed up, you know..." He trailed off. "...He wasn't so bad."

Ratchet snorted. "You're the first person I've heard who liked him, and is concerned for his well-being. Needless to say, he will not be the same mech you knew, not in the slightest."

"So I heard. But that asshole saved my life, so I owe him." Simmons crossed his arms stubbornly. "Even if that means hand-holding him on the road to recovery." He grinned darkly. "Bet he'd love that too."

"No doubt. But I reiterate my previous statement, he will not be the same mech. He will have no individual memories of his own, though it's possible he may get glimpses or flashes of his previous life. However, his personality will be shaped by those he is around and I dare say you are not the kind of influence I'd hope for."

"Hey!"

Ratchet just shot him a look. "Perhaps after his initial training period it might do well for him to have human interaction, but this is all highly speculative. At the moment I still must finish building him."

"How's it going?" Simmons walked to the edge of the table in order to better see the mess of parts and wires on the adjacent figure laying on the table next to him. It only vaguely resembled a mech, in the bare skeletal outline. Ratchet had forged a new skeletal frame and assembled it, and currently was attaching various upgrades, processors, pumps and other gears that he had to install. "It looks complicated." He mused. It brought about many questions to his mind as to how these mechanical life forms lived, died and procreated.

"Slow, but good progress." Ratchet agreed, staring down at the work. "He won't be as bulky, as much of the scrap was too badly disintegrated to melt down into new parts. I'll have to create armor for him later once I find comparable metal I can use. For now, he won't have any." He mused. "Basic simple protoform, no bells or whistles."

"You're doing more than I could."

"That's not saying much."

"That was uncalled for."

"Deal with it."


	35. Chapter 22: Souls and Sparks

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 22: Souls and Sparks**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

There were few times in Ratchets' long career that he had ever considered himself to be nervous or uncertain about anything medically related. He had taken apart entire chassis and chambers from the base out, he had replaced intricate circuits and CPU's that would have confused the most detail-oriented mech, and he had performed difficult and high-risk spark transplants.

He had never done all three of this at once, and never with an organic life-form thrown into the mix.

He sighed and glanced idly at his inner communications screen as he off-lined his optics for a brief moment of respite from his work. He had pointedly been ignoring all communications, no matter what their urgency. His orders upon entering his med bay had been for total isolation and to not be disturbed short of Decepticons trying to break the door down themselves. So far, the others had been wise enough to keep their distance and not attempt to sneak in past the security systems that he'd ordered Wheeljack to install. The scientist hadn't been very skilled in that department, but with a bit creativity, and tweaking by the CMO himself, he had at least a decent amount of privacy to work on his two patients. However, the barricaded door hadn't stopped the others from pinging him with queries. He scanned the list. Twenty-five from Bumblebee, one from most of the others, and two from Prime. He opened his commander's message, choosing to ignore the others for now. The first was just a cursory request for a status update when he had time, the second was a warning that Sam's parental units were on the premises and wished to be informed the moment their son was near revival. At least Prime knew when to keep his nose out of important medical procedures. The Twins however… Ratchet smirked a bit. At least their comments were amusing.

He on-lined his optics again, and stared down at the workspace before him. Two tables sat before him, one with a silver mech's protoform, the other with the comatose human covered with a blanket. Sam Witwicky had remained stable for this long and there was no change to his condition, which Ratchet supposed was a good thing. At least he was in no pain, but the CMO couldn't help but wonder what this prolonged exposure to Allspark energy would do to the boy. Already Ratchet had enough data to analyze straight for months. The fact that the Allspark had been able to re-write the boy's systems to compensate for housing a spark was amazing in itself. The fact that it had infiltrated his blood with the same micro-nanites that made up Cybertronian self-repair systems was astonishing, but explainable. The fact that the boy's body was housing the most potent form of energy Ratchet had ever seen without seeming to affect his natural biological functions was still a mystery to him. It seemed some things were not meant to be understood immediately, but meant to be pondered on a philosophical level. Nonetheless, the boy was safe, and Ratchet was done constructing the replacement shell for the isolated spark.

Now came the tricky part, and to say that Ratchet was nervous would be a massive understatement.

He was terrified.

It wasn't that he was afraid of doing the job, of performing the necessary actions. He knew theoretically what to do, so long as this behaved the same as other transfers he had performed. He wasn't even afraid of any side-complications in the newly constructed mech, as often spark transplants did overload systems not properly configured yet. No, Ratchet was afraid what this could do to Sam. He had no idea what kind of complications would arise from mixing organic with mechanic.

Theoretically the Allspark would take care of itself and it's host. It had a mild form of survival instinct, in the concept that it desired to live just the same as any other being. It would see to it that it survived, just as it had when facing destruction in Sam's hands when he used it against Megatron. However, the Allspark had already shown that it had no concept of thinking about the boy's comfort and life, it merely acted to sustain life and protect it whatever the cost.

So how would it behave when he attempted to pry the spark from Sam's body?

He had several options, many of which he'd run multiple scenario test runs on before considering them as viable methods. The first was his 'hopefully this will be simple' technique. This involved merely bringing the two subjects close enough that the Allspark might voluntarily transfer the resident spark into the new shell. But to be honest, Ratchet doubted this would work since it would mean the Allspark had a sentience beyond that of it's host who was in a state of stasis. It was a hopeful theory, but he didn't think it would be that easy. His second option involved medically removing the spark from Sam by physical force. This option is what scared him. He could take apart any complex system and put it back together better than new in Cybertronians. Humans and their biological functions were a total mystery to him, despite Googling everything he could on the subject. He just had no experience dealing with human surgeries. He had considered requesting a trained doctor be brought in as a consultant in this matter, however after speaking in-depth with both William Lennox and Reginald Simmons, he agreed that bringing in a civilian doctor or even a military medic would be of no help in this situation. He had undergone as much training in human medicinal practices that the Air Force could offer, and bringing in additional personnel meant more paperwork and security clearance. He also didn't relish instructing strange humans on Cybertronian physiology, especially considering what Simmons had done the last time he'd had access to a mech.

So, Ratchet was on his own for now. And as frightening as the concept of performing this complex procedure was, he also was secretly excited for the opportunity to push his talents. However, he had his excitement strictly under control as he considered the two figures.

He was ready to begin, he was just stalling to consider any other complications that could arise.

Really, he had no excuse. It was time to start.

Ratchet let out a windy sigh, and flipped on the powerful halogen lights above the two tables, flooding the medical bay with bright white light to further illuminate his working space. He then carefully pulled the canvas fabric off the protoform and similarly pulled the blanket off the comatose human. They both looked strangely normal, and strangely frail at the same time. Two beings whose lives depended on his actions. Such was the duty of a medic.

First, he began to connect monitoring cables to the protoform in a no-nonsense manner. This he had done hundreds of times before on various subjects, so he recited the medical terms for human surgeries as he worked, going over all the possible complications that could arise which he had computed. Blood loss, lack of pulse and heartbeat, breathing… he had all the equipment needed to combat this situation, borrowed from William Lennox's medical contact on base. He had altered the equipment a little to make it easier for him to quickly access without fumbling for tiny controls. He hoped he didn't require their use, however. He found electric jolts into biological tissue an odd way to stimulate their systems. He finished connecting the cables and turned to the small human and began to delicately connect smaller suction cup linked cables to various pressure points on his body. Once he'd finished he turned to study the monitors. The left one was blank and empty, no readings from the silent still form of the inactive mech. The right held a steady pulse and heartbeat pattern along with breathing, and monitored the energy readings within the boy's body. Right now they were stable pulses, low powered and steady. He knew that could change the moment he attempted this procedure.

Optics studied the readout intently. "Slaggit. Stop stallin' you afthead." He grumbled to himself. "No time like the present."

He turned to the boy, and then carefully slid his hand onto the table and tenderly slipped the limp body onto his palm as he carefully monitored the readouts. Steady and strong. So far so good. He carefully shifted the boy closer to the dormant mech and warily lowered him closer, then paused to stare intently at the monitors.

No change.

Slaggit.

Ratchet fought the urge to curse out loud, knowing it would not do any good. He hadn't expected it to be that easy. Simply bringing the boy close apparently wasn't going to provoke a response as he'd initially hoped.

Nothing was ever easy.

He placed the boy back on his own table and turned to make some notes, before he steeled himself for his second option. He pulled up the scans of the boy onto his monitor. The Allspark had chosen the most difficult place to create the spark chamber. Given, in human systems their organs were fairly compact leaving little spare space to begin with. However there were still a few places that would serve well enough for something as small as a spark, providing the chamber wasn't full-sized. A mech's spark was roughly the size of a human heart, but housed in a far larger compartment to facilitate it's energy to the rest of the body. Since it had no need to power a body at the moment, it was sitting in a compact spark chamber within the boy's left lung. The lung area that had been there before had been reformatted entirely, and was gone completely to make for the additional 'borrowed' organ. To compensate for the lack of oxygen, Sam had been placed in stasis so the single lung remaining did not have to work harder to provide him with air. The spark chamber had integrated itself through a complex network of metal filaments interlaced with organic blood vessels. Tiny metal nanites were infesting the boy's blood like his own natural blood cells. It was this that mostly concerned the CMO. He had shown Sam the potency of the Allspark's metal nanites when they healed the small pin prick of blood upon demonstration. His concern now was, would they heal him too fast for him to work?

Sparks were complicated things under normal circumstances, but he at least understood how they functioned. A spark was energy: pure concentrated energy unique to each mech that possessed it. It was their soul, as he understood the human term. Mikaela had once asked him how Cybertronians regarded souls. He had been confused over the term at first and they had launched into a very interesting conversation.

"So, you tell me that this soul you humans refer to is an intangible thing which you consider unique to each individual?"

"Yeah… something like that." She replied, glancing up at her instructor as she finished an adjustment on the protoform they were constructing. "I mean, the soul isn't something you can see or touch…"

"So how do you determine you possess such a thing?"

"Well.. it's just part of who we are." She said wrinkling her nose a bit. "I mean… it's like our personalities, our morals… what makes us… us."

"Do not your physical bodies determine your life, your brain determine your thought processes?"

"Yes…" She said frowning. "I guess. But it's not that simple."

"When a human ceases to function, there are times that your machines can reactivate the body after life has been terminated?"

"Yeah…"

"So then memories and personality remain intact, the individual remains intact?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't." She said quietly. "It just depends."

Ratchet's eyes were keen as he regarded the young woman. Her own eyes were focused on the small cot safely tucked away on a side table where Sam lay sleeping. While he was unfamiliar with human mating rituals, he did know one constant was universal, the concept of love. While it had different names and meanings in both their cultures, the idea was identical. It represented a devotional bond of commitment, the desire to be with the one you felt connected to. Cybertronians called it spark bonding, humans called it love, essentially it was one in the same. There were differences, however. The human concept of love was an intangible emotional bond that couldn't be seen, touched or analyzed, it was merely a feeling… much like this soul concept. There was no proof it existed, yet it did still exist. For mechs, there physically was a bond that could be seen, felt and recognized by others.

Ratchet was slightly concerned for Mikaela's safety in this regard. He had not yet mentioned it to her, but it was obvious that her close proximity and emotional bond to Sam was not a simple human connection, as Sam was no normal human any longer. He had begun to detect similar metal elements in the girl's blood much like that Sam possessed, but with much less frequency and potency. He didn't know what this meant, and therefore had not mentioned it to her, however close observation had his suspicions peaking towards several possibilities.

Sparks and souls were of similar models, but each possessed a unique complicated network of existance. There could be any number of things that would go wrong with this attempt to separate the spark from Sam's body. It could potentially mean harm, damage or even deactivation at worst.

He had no way to know for certain, he had to simply act and hope for the best.

Ratchet's hand was steady as his finger shifted into the fine tuned laser scalpel he had altered for Sam's smaller frame. He carefully positioned the boy flat on the table and leaned over him as he presented the tool over the bare skin. There was a brief glow of red as he ignited it, and carefully lowered it to make the incision. He had to do this quickly, move the spark over before the boy's body started to heal…

He had absolutely no idea how long he was out for, but when his systems slowly began to come on one by one, it indicated a complete systems short and overload. There was no pain, oddly enough, which worried him more than the realization he had suddenly been knocked offline. His chronometer read only a few clicks, once it came back online, and shortly after that his CPU began to run a damage analysis. Memory intact, primary functions intact. It seemed his systems had simply been placed into a forced shut-down due to an enormous energy surge that had taken him completely unaware. Where had THAT come from?

"Slag… you look like you been overdosing on the high-grade my man. What the frag ya been doin'?" Came an eerily familiar voice to his audio receptors the same time strong hands helped him into a sitting position.

At first, Ratchet wasn't sure why his CPU froze up. His circuits were still a bit scrambled from the overload, so the familiarity of the voice didn't hit him until a few astro seconds after the speaker had uttered the words.

Then the realization hit him like a plasma cannon.

Ratchet on-lined his optics in a hurry to meet with flickering static as he forced them to online before their self-diagnostic had kicked in. Therefore the face hovering in front of his view was a bit out of focus and distorted but still clearly recognizable as the familiar visored visage of the previously spark-extinguished First Lieutenant.

For his part Jazz appeared merely concerned as to why he'd discovered the CMO laying offline on the floor of his med-bay. His visor retracted to reveal worried blue optics studying the clearly stunned expression on his comrade's face. "Ratchet?" He asked, rapping the mech on the head with his knuckles as if attempting to knock some sense back into him. "Do I need ta zap you with yer own thingys over there?" Still, Ratchet couldn't seem to formulate a response. It seemed his vocal processors had temporarily off-lined in response to the shock of seeing a mech who was supposed to be dead, leaning over him asking if he was ok. Jazz snapped his fingers in front of Ratchet's optics then sighed. "Ok, up we go then… come on big guy."

As he was helped to his feet, his systems finally decided to kick back into full capabilities. He shoved himself roughly to his feet, and whirled to stare incredulously at the one supporting his larger frame. "Primus…"

Jazz blinked at him. "Do I look like Primus to you? Sure I'm handsome, but even I ain't that good. You sure you didn't fry a circuit, Ratch?"

"Me?!" He roared as he turned and grabbed the silver mech by the arms and stared intently at him. "What about YOU?! How the…slag…I don't understand this…."

"Understand what? I swear you flipped somethin'. I find you out cold on the floor lookin' like you just fried every circuit in your system. What you been on?"

"You were dead."

That shut Jazz up quick. His optics froze on the CMO's expression, and all jovial actions stopped. "What?"

"You were DEAD." Ratchet repeated, his CPU still spinning wildly in repetitive cycles trying to grasp the concept himself. "Offline, torn in two. By Megatron himself no, less. Do you remember that?"

The saboteur frowned and lowered his optics clearly attempting to search his memory banks for the relevant information. He was silent a moment before lifting his optics to steadily stare at the CMO. "I dunno, Ratch. Everything's kinda fuzzy right now. You say I was torn in two?"

"Yes." Ratchet said quietly. "Mikaela and I repaired you… we didn't feel it was right to leave you damaged. But there was no chance… none. Your spark was extinguished." He shakily tightened his grasp on the mech's shoulder. "I've seen many things in my existence, Jazz… but nothing like this."

Jazz held his gaze solemnly before shaking his head slowly. "Don't ask me, Ratch. I got vague memories of a battle… flashes really. Nothin' more than that though. Next thing I know I'm sittin' up feelin' fine, you're layin' on the floor and this place tooled up like Frankenstein's lab."

Ratchet blinked. "Sam." He said suddenly, his astonishment at the miraculous revival forgotten for a moment. He turned back to the tables and stared at his two patients, as Jazz turned to follow his gaze. "Impossible." Ratchet murmured quietly, his optics snapping to the diagnostics on the screen. Two sets of signals on the screens. Two separate signals. "He did it." He said quietly. "He transferred the spark on his own." His CPU spun in circles as he tried to figure out just what had happened. "He must have done something… and the side-effect… Primus, this doesn't make sense! How did he do this?" He still couldn't wrap his processors around how Jazz had been brought back from death by an apparent power surge that had clearly eminated from Sam when he'd attempted to remove the spark protected within the boy.

"Say wha?" Jazz blinked clearly confused as he studied the protoform. "Who's that new guy anyway. I don't recognize 'em."

"Long story my friend." Ratchet sighed, feeling suddenly a rush of what humans might consider adrenaline flood out of his body as he sat heavily down onto the rolling stool at his terminal.

"So… I um… missed a bunch then." Jazz stated rather awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his head.

Ratchet smiled slowly, feeling his spark pulsing with a euphoric glee. "More than you know, Jazz. More than you know."

Somehow, he'd saved three patients today, when he'd only started out with two.

All in a day's work.

* * *

_Author's Note: Again, apologies for the delay. My promotion has me working long hours and I've suffered from a lack of energy to write at the end of the day. I promise to attempt to update more frequently when I can, but please bear with me and be patient _

* * *


	36. Chapter 23: Awakenings

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 23: Awakenings**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Optimus considered himself a patient mech. One had to be when you controlled a squad of headstrong upstarts who constantly gave you trouble from all sides. He was used to settling arguments, to mediating between factions and giving orders and usually being respected.

He drew the line when it came to his paint job however.

"So tell me Mister Prime, why did you choose flames?" Judy Witwicky smiled up at him warmly as they sat patiently outside the base, enjoying the warm sunshine in the end of what had been a cold and bitter desert winter season.

Optimus fought the urge to sigh. It would be rude to do so before Sam's parental units.

"I must say, it doesn't really fit what I'd imagine a leader's image." Ron added, much to Optimus' chagrin. "I mean, you'd think of flames painting the side of younger uh... mechs."

"Actually..." Ironhide drawled to the side slowly with a wicked grin. "He's the youngest Prime our people have ever had."

"Really?" Judy asked clearly surprised. "And here you acted far ah... more respectable than some of the others."

"So who IS the oldest?"

Now, Optimus favored himself with a smile. "Ironhide is." he said with a sly sideways smirk at his weapons specialist. He got a glare in return.

"And Ratchet." Ironhide muttered. "Slag, for all I know we're the last old-timers out there." He tilted his head upwards. "No idea who else is still around."

"Indeed." Optimus murmured quietly.

The two mechs and two humans were currently situated just outside their home base, thankfully undisturbed by those working beneath the surface. Optimus had seen to it that all idle hands had been put to work, despite the knowledge that Ratchet was close to performing the complicated spark transplant. Half the mechs wanted to watch because they were worried about Sam's well being, half the mechs wanted to watch because it was a complicated procedure they'd never gotten the chance to see, and they were curious what would happen. Ratchet had specific instructions however, and Optimus had seen to it that those instructions had been followed explicitly. This made some cranky, but Optimus would rather deal with cranky soldiers than a cranky medic any day of the week.

Speaking of which…

He sent a memo to the CMO, knowing that Ratchet probably had all his communications frequencies turned off so he could concentrate. He knew that when the medic had time he would open the message and see his advisory about Sam's parents. His optics slid over to the other two sitting by a bolder talking quietly. Miles was still incredibly nervous around the Autobots. He had been introduced to Bumblebee first when Sam had been awake, but the concept of giant alien robots still seemed to twist his consciousness. Miles was a total sci-fi geek, and Mikaela had thought he'd accept it easier, but it seemed that the geek drew the line between his small X-bot and a soda machine versus cars that were as tall as his house when they stood up. Still, the human was equally fascinated and always stared with wide eyes every time one of them transformed. Optimus couldn't help but find some solace in the naive curiosity of the young man. It was oddly refreshing to be seen as something wondrous and amazing by creatures whose vivid imaginations had crafted such concepts for decades without seeing tangible examples.

Sam's parents were another matter. They were quicker to accept the Autobots presence, perhaps because their son had helped ease them into it through Bumblebee. Judy was still nervous around most of them, though she favored Optimus and Bumblebee equally. She found Bumblebee a worthy guardian to protect her son, after having seen him react to an 'accident' in Wheeljack's lab that had nearly taken the scientists' life… for the two hundred and forty second time. Ever since then she had been convinced Sam couldn't be safer. There was some irony in that. As for himself, well Judy immediately liked him the moment he had introduced himself to them. She found him 'respectable' and 'dignified' and 'responsible'. He honestly wondered how the woman could have such insight when she barely knew him, but he wasn't about to complain at her complacent attitude. Ron was another matter. He might have been nervous and overwhelmed at first, but like his son he was completely fascinated and enraptured by the world of the Cybertronians. He had volunteered to help however he could, and Optimus had taken him up on his offer with a few new arrivals. Ron had happily lent them the use of his showroom to find a few new cars to sport. He'd also been joyriding with more than a few, and far too often for his wife's liking. However, Optimus could see where Sam got a lot of his personality traits from, both his creators had strong ties to their son through their genetic traits.

Mikaela had been rather quiet for the last several months. Ratchet had shared his suspicions with his commander, and Optimus had to agree with his CMO's deductions in regards to the young teens. The girl had been quiet and withdrawn, working harder than ever to speed the process of creating the new mech's protoform. Her spare time was spent mostly on base in the human rec room, sleeping in the bunks without going home. Granted, she had no close family in town any longer, and her spare time was spent finishing her studies up when she wasn't working. But the toll of the events showed clearly on her face. She looked pale, worn and tired. However, her dedication never wavered. Optimus was a bit glad to see her smile when speaking with Miles. The two had never liked each other much, but since Sam's comatose condition they had become friends. Sam would be proud of them when he woke.

Optimus blinked as a sudden power surge registered on the edge of his sensors. He normally wouldn't have detected it, but he was keeping his sensors sharply trained on Ratchet's medical facility just for this reason, to monitor what was going on there. A quick glance showed him Ironhide, who was busy observing their surrounding area for any sign of enemy presence, hadn't noticed the surge. It seemed he was the only one topside who had. He sent a quick query to Ratchet, but received no reply. Well, the CMO could take care of himself. If he didn't report in soon, he would go and check on him.

His optics shifted back to the cheerful scene before him. Despite the lighthearted attitude, everyone still was tense, nervous and uncomfortable. The one thing on all their minds was Sam's condition. Ratchet had told them he would do all he could, and they shouldn't worry as the Allspark wouldn't permit any harm to come to Sam. However, that didn't stop them from worrying. Everyone's nerves had been on edge ever since the attack. The Decepticons activities had been very worrisome to all of them. Sam's parents weren't involved, but Mikaela and Miles had heard most of what was going on since they spent so much time on base now. Lennox and his men were spending most of their time deployed out with Optimus' long range scouts, trying to stop any crisis before it happened. Unfortunately, as of yet none of them had been able to predict where and when the Decepticons would hit. There was one constant that they finally had connected. Every place was not where they expected them to go. They hadn't targeted a single military base or heavily fortified facility, but instead struck at seemingly random places with little protection, some plants and facilities, some more remote areas with no human presences. Wheeljack had been frantically trying to find a pattern in the madness, unfortunately even the brilliant scientist was not skilled at mind games.

_Optimus._

Finally. It took him long enough. _How goes the work, Ratchet?_

_Interesting to say the least. Are you sitting down?_

_Yes, why?_

_Shut off your vocal processors._

_Why?_

_Just do it._

_Very well… now what is the problem?_

_Not so much a problem as a surprise._

_Hey, Optimus. What's crackin'?_

If it hadn't been for Ratchet's instruction to shut down his vocal processors, Optimus would have made quite a loud protest of surprise that likely would have damaged the fragile humans' ears nearby. As it was, he froze in place, optics wide no longer paying attention to the conversation around him, instead entirely focused on that one signal. Ironhide had noticed his sudden reaction and was watching him intently, but knew better than to inquire before the Commander was ready. _Jazz….?_ Optimus thought dizzily, the name sending shivers down his processors. _It's not possible…_

_Wha, you sound disappointed! I'm hurt! _

Optimus couldn't help but smile, chuckling in silence as he'd still kept his vocal processors offline for safety. _Ratchet…I know you well enough to know this is no joke. But how in Primus' name is this possible?_

_Sam did it. Don't ask me how, I haven't figured it out yet._ Ratchet replied, his own voice still tinged with some of the same wonder Optimus felt. _All I know is, I was trying to remove the spark and the Allspark apparently didn't like what I was trying to do. When I woke up I was flat on my back with Jazz leaning over me._

_He looked like slag too. _

_Thank you, Jazz._

_Anytime, my man._

_So as to how he did it, I can only guess that in attempting to transfer the spark, Sam's connection to the Matrix through the Allspark somehow sensed Jazz's body and must have pulled his spark back from the grasp of Primus himself. I'm not sure if this is something any of us CAN understand… or if it was even conscious. In either case, Sam is fine and his biological functions have returned to normal, and the spark is safely housed and stable in it's new body._

_And I'm back to save the day._

_Thank you Jazz._

_Nonetheless, it is good to hear your voice my friend._

_Thanks Optimus. To be honest, if it weren't for trustin' Ratch as much as I do, I'd swear you all were pullin' a fast one on me. I don't feel like I've been offline for months. I feel great._

_How is he, Ratchet?_

_Well, if he'd sit still long enough for me to complete my scans…_

_All right, all right. Sheesh._

_Apart from some chronometer resynchronization, he seems to be as good as new. It's a very good thing Mikaela and I repaired his systems before he came back online, otherwise we might be slagged. However, I can find no fault with allowing him to return to full duty status._

Optimus smiled again. _The others are going to be in for quite a shock._

_Break it to them gently, if possible. Especially Bumblebee, he looked up to Jazz like a brother. _

_And make sure Ironhide don't try to take my ass out for bein' stupid and getting' myself killed._

_I will do my best._

_Let us know when it's safe to come out._

Optimus sighed and onlined his processors, turning over this information. He was still having trouble processing it. It seemed unreal, impossible. Yet, he had seen such strange and impossible things whenever Sam was concerned. Had he controlled the Allspark himself, he would have used it to do just this, he just hadn't expected the boy to figure out how to do this so soon. But who was he to complain?

"Optimus?" He lowered his optics to see all pairs of human eyes and Ironhides' wary optics studying him, obviously having noticed his silence. Judy looked impatient as she looked up at him. "You know, I hate it when you do that." She said with a small frown. "If I could install a wireless transmitter into Sam's head I'd never have to worry if he'd be home late or not."

"And you'd never leave him to his own privacy." Ron muttered too quiet for Judy to hear, but loud enough for the two mechs to pick up.

"Optimus?" Ironhide spoke up in a no-nonsense tone. "What is it?"

The Commander lifted his optics to his weapons specialist and then sent him a complete data burst, the same time he spoke the words for the benefit of the humans. "It seemed the transfer has been successful. Both the spark and Sam have been separated with no unfortunate complications." It was at this moment that Ironhide finished digesting the data and went into a coughing fit, surging to his feet like a drunken soldier. Optimus politely ignored his sputtering. "There was one side-effect however." The humans all looked immediately worried, not daring to interrupt him as they all nervously watched Ironhide sputtering wildly. "It seems Sam has performed another miracle. Jazz is now alive and well."

Judy, Ron and Miles all looked blank, but Mikeala gasped in shock, her hands going to her face as her eyes widened possibly larger than Optimus had thought possible in the small girls' frame. "No!" She whispered, her voice awed and hushed. He smiled and nodded once to her question, and stood there white faced with wide eyes filling quickly with sparkling tears as a smile spread over her face the same time the tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.

"Um… who's Jazz?" Miles asked blankly.

* * *

_Stasis Lock canceled. _

_Initializing start-up procedures. _

_Booting CPU. _

_Initialized._

_Synchronizing data with remote terminal. _

_Completed._

_Systems coming online. 20. 50. 75. Completed._

Optics flickered from dim to bright in the matter of astroseconds. He recognized where he was, the data provided explained that he was in a medical facility. His scanners initialized and did a quick sweep of his vicinity. Two mechs, one organic life-form other than himself. No available weapons online, but no identifiable threats.

A mech's face appeared in front of his optics, watching him with a rather curious but appraising expression. "You have been revived from stasis." He stated simply in a language not the mech's own, but one he already had knowledge of thanks to the data included in his CPU. "Your systems seem to be in full compliance within standards. How do they feel to you?"

He paused a moment, considering the question long enough to scan for himself. "Systems appear to be operating within normal parameters."

"Good." The medic replied, continuing to study him. "Go ahead and test out your structure, I'm fairly confidant we did a good job with final construction upgrades, but I'd like your analysis just to make sure." The mech sat up slowly, testing each limb as he moved, optics scanning his form. It was sleek and polished without so much as a scratch, and very lightweight. Nothing twinged or scraped as he moved into standing position, and after an approving nod to the medic, he resumed his seat on the table, critically studying his figure. "Good." The medic praised, entering some data into his computer. "Now, one more question." He turned back to face him, optics solemn. "Do you remember anything?"

The mech blinked. What kind of question was this? It was illogical, yet at the same time he thought this, he realized that there was no individual memories in his CPU. Data had been uploaded with vital functions and information, but no experiences past his awakening. His brow creased. He did not like this one bit. It felt unnatural. His optics snapped back to the medic, studying him appraisingly. "Negative." He stated simply. "I possess no individual memories. Please explain this error."

"No error." The medic sighed quietly. "You've just been initiated in what I can only assume is your third body now. Everything else was destroyed other than your spark, so naturally there is no data to transfer. I was hoping there was some residual imprinting, but sometimes it takes time to manifest. I'm afraid you will have to start from scratch for now."

The mech frowned but nodded once in acceptance to the information. What the medic said rang true with the data included in his CPU. Lack of data from a destroyed processor naturally would leave him with a blank slate to write his own experiences anew. "I understand." He said after a moment.

"We haven't assigned you a designation yet, I leave that up to you to select one when you find something suitable."

"Understood."

"Are you feeling up to speaking with Optimus Prime?"

A quick data search indicated this individual was the leader of this faction. The medic's designation was Ratchet. "Affirmative."

"Very well, I will call him."

It took only a few moments for the medical bay door to slide open permitting the one who his data indicated was the expected leader. He straightened off the bunk and stood at attention as the leader turned to face him. "I hear from Ratchet that you are functioning normally. It is good to see you up and well."

"Good to be so, sir." The mech replied formally, standing as if at attention. Ratchet watched critically taking note. Residual imprinting or not, the mech was bred to be a soldier and trained to respond to authority. It was very interesting that this seemed to be a natural response, whereas most mechs who had to start off blank behaved like untrained sparklings new to the world. Perhaps this said something more about the mech's personality.

Ratchet let the two speak as he turned back to Jazz whom he'd put offline again so he could do a diagnostic. The second lieutenant hadn't been happy about the idea, but had complied after being threatened with being restricted to medical house arrest if he didn't behave. So far from what the medic could see, there was not even a sign of strain or damage to the mech's structure. No matter how good a medic he was, even Ratchet hadn't been able to do a seamless meld to the armor that normally had self-regenerative components to help him out. But that no longer mattered, as the seam was gone completely, repaired in entirety. There was no damage whatsoever, and even some of the rougher patch jobs were completely up to par. Ratchet spared a glance to the sleeping human. He was going to have to have a chat with Sam about the appropriateness of using his newfound healing abilities in battle.

They would have a very significant advantage if the boy could heal wounds instantly. Perhaps they could end this war permanently.


	37. Chapter 24: Revivals and Reunions

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 24: Revivals and Reunions  
**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

He first became aware of a loud dim of voices far in the distance, echoing as if spoken from a corridor behind a thick door. He didn't open his eyes yet, feeling sleepy and content as he was. But the voices sounded harsh, loud, and slightly distorted, as if he were listening through a breaking up cell phone. Someone was protesting, loudly, at his side. Sam heard a windy sigh, and his brain suddenly connected a name to that sigh. "Bee…" He murmured quietly, his voice sounding oddly distorted and distant, cracked as if he'd just had a sore throat.

Instantly he felt the motion beside him, and could nearly feel the presence hovering before he cracked one eye open. The light was harsh, and he quickly shut his eye again before it could hurt much. "Sam." A warm concerned voice familiar to his ears spoke softly at his side. "You are awake."

"Ugh." He commented hoarsely. "…wish I weren't. Did Optimus run me over?"

There was a small snort off to the side that he took to be laughter, and a soft warbling series of notes nearer to him that sounded like the same thing. "No, Sam. Do you remember what happened?"

It was hard to try and remember. He could pull up flashes with a lot of green and blue involved, some yellow and black framed against white… and blue optics watching him. "Oh…right…yeah I remember."

"We have successfully transferred the spark from your protection into its new body, Sam." Ratchet was reporting off to his right somewhere. "It was a bit tricky, but it seemed once we got you close enough, the Allspark took over and reacted, completing the transfer and dissolving the components it created in your body before bringing you back online."

"Right…sounds great."

"Cheeky little…" Ratchet muttered. "You scared the slag outta me, boy." He sighed. "Keep your eyes shut for now. Trust me, it's better."

"Kay." Sam said, not wanting to protest. The light hurt his eyes. "How long's it been?" He vaguely remembered Bee telling him that it would be a while. The answer was hesitant to come, but at last the medic spoke up.

"It has been a considerable amount of time, Sam… approximately seven months."

Sam's eyes opened despite the warning, the harsh light causing him to wince and shut them again, as he let out a small groan. "Seven MONTHS?" Holy crap, what about his parents…? Mikaela…? Miles…? School…? Ah screw school.

"I understand your disorientation, however there was no way I could work faster." Ratchet sounded irritated. "It took all of our help, plus scrounging for extra supplies to get you back on your feet as quick as we did." There was a pause then… "How do you feel right now, Sam?"

"Like crap." He said tiredly. "Everything aches. Bright light… too loud noises… Feels like I've had a killer flu."

"That should pass." Ratchet said, sounding slightly pleased. "Your body is still adapting."

Pause.

"Wait…what?"

Ratchet sighed impatiently. "You just finished feeding power to a spark, trying to keep it alive for the last six months, Sam. Your body is exhausted and needs rest."

"I just woke up!"

"Your mind woke up, your body has been in a continuous state of operation, though your systems were on stand-by." The CMO growled.

"English, doc!" Sam protested.

"The Allspark was busy. Your body had a low priority, it kept you alive and healthy, but it's been running full power like a battery, that's plain enough for you?" Snapped Ratchet before he sighed. "You'll recover quickly in no time, Sam. I'm just a bit concerned what side-effects might occur due to this constant charge of Allspark energy through your system."

"Well…you've had time to watch me, anything weird happen?" He was a little wary of what the answer might be.

Ratchet was silent for a moment, before speaking crossly. "Not that I can see, YET." He said, stressing the word. "But it was busy, as I said, keeping the spark alive. That vast amount of energy is bound to be exhausting no matter who you are. I did pick up increased electrical activity and metal signatures, but I cannot get specific readings." There was a windy sigh, and suddenly the bright harsh light shut off above him, plunging him into comparative darkness as Sam let out a sigh of relief, cracking his eyes open. Spots still danced before his eyes. "However, there was one unusual side-effect."

"Huh?" The boy tried to peer through the dimness as his eyes slowly focused on the chartreuse paintjob of the medic leaning over him. "What kind of side-effect." He caught the glance Ratchet tossed towards Bumblebee, and glanced up at his Guardian who he suddenly realized was grinning widely. "What's the catch here?"

"The catch, kid… is you got one hell of a power kick I'm told." Came a familiar voice from somewhere behind Bumblebee.

Sam's eyes widened and he sat up abruptly, his head whirling in the process but that didn't stop him from craning his head to see the friendly face of Jazz grinning down at him. "Holy…"

"Yup, I sure was." Jazz replied cheekily. "Not anymore though, thanks to you."

Sam's jaw fell open. "M…me?" He whispered softly, one hand lifting a bit as he stared down at his palm, which appeared unmarked and as normal as ever, even the gray lines had become 'normal' to him. He glanced up to meet gazes with Bumblebee and Jazz, who were both grinning at him. His gaze switched to Ratchet who looked less pleased but still smugly proud. "Dude…"

"However, I don't want this resurrection ability of yours going to your head." The medic said firmly. "Whatever that surge did, it sure wasn't easy on your body. My guess is it put you out longer than you needed to be. So next time, you wait for my permission before bringing the dead back to life, got it?"

"Uh...Yeah. No problem."

The saboteur and spy both chortled their amusement.

Sam rolled his eyes, rubbing them with the back of his hand as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. Everything ached when he moved, as if he'd just recovered from a killer flu. He figured that just came from not moving for seven months, though that amount of time just baffled him. What'd he been doing, just laying here on Ratchet's table the whole time? Frightening images of the Hatchet taking that opportunity to examine him sent shivers down his spine. Ok, not a good image.

"Take it slow." Ratchet insisted again, glaring over at him meaningfully as Sam squinted through the dim light, his eyes slowly adapting to the lack of harshness from the uber lamp that had been positioned over him.

"What was with the light, anyway." Sam muttered irritated. "It was way too bright, burn out my retinas why don't you."

"Stop griping." Ratchet growled. "You're as bad as Sunstreaker."

"Hey! No one's THAT bad." Sam protested in a wounded tone.

"You got that right." Jazz chuckled.

Ratchet snorted and turned back to him, prodding a finger in his direction. "For your information, that light was a powerful UV generator. I discovered while you were blissfully unaware of what was going on around you, that your body reacts favorably to exposure to UV radiation."

Sam blinked. "Huh?"

"Sunlight." Bee explained helpfully. "Ratchet thought that sunlight might be helping the Allspark recharge. He noticed earlier you always seemed content in the sun and tended to fall asleep."

"Oh." Sam scratched his head, and then looked down at his arms. Well, he didn't have s sunburn, which was a good sign, though he did appear to have a nice tan. "That's good?"

"It explains how the Allspark is regenerating within you." Ratchet explained simply, folding his arms. "It cannot create energy from nothing, so it takes energy from the Ultra Violet rays you are exposed to and converts it into energy you can use. It can generate it's own, but by this method it can add energy to itself rather than recycle it. My recommendation, use that to your advantage and go bathe in the sun."

"It's called sun-bathing, Ratchet."

"That's what I said."

"Of course alternate power sources like fusion or nuclear reactions might do the same thing, but that tends not to be favorable to the human body."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Who?"

"Never mind." Sam sighed and exchanged a glance with Bee, who simply shrugged. "So, you got the spark safely?" He asked, glancing around the med bay for some kind of sign, but saw no body or unidentified mech.

"Yes." Ratchet agreed. "He is functioning and speaking with Optimus. Perhaps you can converse with him later. He unfortunately does not have memories to rely on so you will have to build relationships from scratch."

"So like… if his processors don't have the memories, that means he just starts over blank?"

"Essentially." Ratchet agreed. "It's a disadvantage, I admit. He had years of experience and intel we could have used on our side."

"So what's he going to be? A fighter like Barricade?"

"Until we know more about what kind of spirit the spark has, we cannot second guess and simply assume he will be a warrior like Barricade was. He could have been a medic, a spy, or even a consumer model for all we know. Once we determine more his preferences and tendencies, then I can specialize his visage and give him adaptations as needed. Optimus also wishes to keep an eye on him during his learning and development stages, just in case our neighborhood Decepticon rears his ugly face again. One never knows with sparks…" Ratchet frowned. "And with two lives of two 'different' mechs on one spark, we have no idea what that could do to him."

Sam blinked and nodded, all that information a bit much for him to absorb all at once. "So what are you gonna call him?"

Ratchet hesitated then shot a glance over at Sam. "That is a most curious question." He said, seeming slightly surprised. "Most mechs choose a name of their liking, or are given one by their creator once they figure out who they are. Likely he will do the same once he establishes his own parameters. Until then, we have names we use in situations such as these however…" He glanced at Bumblebee and seemed to transmit something silently, as Sam could almost feel the signals flying between them though he couldn't intercept them. "…I don't believe it translates well into your language."

"Try me." Sam suggested. "Since I know yours, maybe we can figure something out."

"Very well. We use the designation… --" What followed was a complex string of warbles and notes that Sam merely blinked at, as he frowned trying to figure it out.

"Yikes." He finally said. "You weren't kidding. That's one long-ass name." He finally offered. The best paraphrasing he could come up with was 'one who is too young to designate oneself and therefore given generic designation'. "Ok, well humans have something like that… When someone loses their memory or can't be identified, we call them John Doe, or Jane Doe if it's a girl." He scratched his head awkwardly. "I guess that doesn't really help us though."

"Not entirely. I don't think it would be appropriate to refer to him with a human designation." Ratchet admitted, glaring at Bumblebee and Jazz who both found the whole thing amusing enough to chuckle a bit. "We will refer to him using that designation for now. I will leave it in your hands to pick a temporary designation for human use."

"Uh…right." Sam said rather blankly. "Maybe I'll wait on that till I meet him."

Ratchet sighed and rolled his optics. "As you wish. Now, if you are feeling well enough I believe you have very concerned family and friends anxiously awaiting your return in the rec room. They have been hovering for hours since I finished the procedure."

Sam grinned a bit at that. "Welcome home party… wait, rec room?" he blinked.

"They built it while you were asleep, Sam." Bumblebee offered, extending a hand for the youth to climb into. "I believe it is quite a comfortable facility, however there are no entrances large enough to permit our physical forms."

"Captain Lennox made a point in gloating about that." Ratchet murmured. "He seemed intent on having some 'personal space'… I honestly don't understand humans at times."

Bumblebee exchanged a glance with Sam, grinning at each other. They understood better, perhaps because Bee was more familiar with human ideologies from being on the planet longer. "Would you like to see them now, Sam?"

"Might as well. I'm sure I look like crap…" He slowly tugged himself into Bee's hand, still feeling weak and shaky, so decided not to stand up just yet. "Dare I ask who's been changing my clothes? I know I don't own army fatigues."

"Captain Lennox has been seeing to your physical welfare at my request." Ratchet offered. "I was not aware how much maintenance a stasis-locked human required." He muttered looking a bit affronted.

_Well, at least it hadn't been Mikaela_, Sam thought with a flush to his cheeks.


	38. Chapter 25: Identities

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 25: Identities**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"So…done with your training I take it?"

The silver mech's blue optics lowered to study the human, their gaze calm and unreadable. It had been a long series of months for them both. While Sam had gotten back on his feet swiftly, and begun training his muscles to accept movement again, it was still eerily hard to adapt. He still felt like he was walking in a twilight zone, as if there was something different, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

On the other hand, the 'nameless' mech had been hard at work being schooled, trained and brought up on current tactics and strategies. Sam hadn't seen much of his instruction, but he had gotten the chance to observe as Ironhide tested his skills. At first, the mech had reacted slowly, being hit often and hard, much to Ratchet's displeasure. But then Sam began to see why. After a clumsy start, the mech then began to deftly avoid every shot, dodging, twisting and ducking, as if he knew precisely where Ironhide was going to shoot. The answer as to why came with a soft murmur of admiration from Bumblebee. "He's analyzing his battle tactics."

"He is?" Sam asked curiously, watching as Ironhide swore vehemently as he missed again.

"Yes." Optimus agreed clearly impressed. "This is very telling as to where his strengths lie. Clearly he cannot take and deliver the damage as Ironhide can, however he sees patterns and methods in his attacker's movements." He looked thoughtful, watching the proceedings.

"Think he was a spy or scout?" Ratchet asked thoughtfully. "Barricade functioned as the interceptor infiltrator of the Decepticons, so it makes sense his sparks' role would be something close."

"I agree. See to more specialized training and upgrades in that direction."

"Frag." Came a quiet voice to the side that made Sam glance in the direction of two very unhappy looking twins. "What do you think Sunny."

"I think we're slagged."

"Yeah… definitely slagged."

What was that about, Sam wondered curiously. The twins weren't scared of anyone… well other than Ratchet. It was very odd to see them sneaking about keeping out of sight. Come to think of it, they'd lain low as of late, not pulling any pranks since he'd been back up and about.

Something was definitely fishy.

While the mech seemed good at analyzing battle tactics, he also proved also very sharp minded and intelligent. According to Optimus, he had been very swift to grasp their current situation and even offered some of his own suggestions that proved very sound.

Sam also found that the mech had a long way to go when it came to personality. Perhaps that's why the twins avoided him.

Glowing blue optics studied the human steadily without blinking, as the silver mech kneeled before Sam. Ratchet had done some upgrades for him, basic armor plating now lined his protoform, and he'd just finished getting his transformation circuits completed so he could finally adapt an alt form. He had weapons upgrades now, so he could defend himself. A basic cannon and retractable melee weapon like Bumblebee's completed his small arsenal. He'd also been given permission to finally leave the base, provided he remained with Sam. Optimus had spoken privately with the human, and was convinced Sam could take care of himself. However, he still had warned him not to let his guard down. There was no telling who or what they were dealing with yet. While as of yet, the mech had shown himself to be non-violent, he still had a cold exterior reminiscent of the former Decepticon's personality, and Sam felt eerily squeamish when those optics stared at him. While they were blue, they had a sharp intensity that still reminded him of Barricade.

"I am to accompany you, Sam Witwicky." The mech said in a quiet tenor completely unlike Barricade's rumbling baritone. Ratchet had to completely construct new vocal processors, but the tone and inflection still reminded Sam a little of the former 'con. "Am I to understand you have several locations available to find an alternate mode?"

"Yeah." Sam agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. "We can go watch some freeways, there's a car show in town and my dad gave us clearance to go into his dealership, but getting there might be tough."

"I am sure there will be something suitable. Shall we go?" The mech lowered a hand, and Sam awkwardly climbed into the offered mode of transportation. By now he was used to traveling in palms, on shoulders or tucked carefully between crevasses in armor, but he still was quite aware of just how easy it would be for one of these giant miracles of metal to smush him. Especially when it came to this particular mech.

He still hadn't chosen a name for himself, though Bumblebee told Sam that it was natural, given he still wasn't sure of his place in their ranks yet. When Sam had asked who Bee thought the mech really was, his friend had offered a few suggestions of insight from his own experience. He wouldn't give a name, but he did seem to believe as the others did that this mech was not a front battle runner, but someone who took a side or back seat, possibly a scout or backup. Sam had asked the others, but none of them wanted to speculate, even Optimus had warned him not to push others. The worst thing, he said, was that they pressured the mech into believing he was someone he wasn't. They would find out in time, it just would take some patience. However, Sam still secretly thought of the mech as Barricade, and was quite curious to find out just what form he would choose, especially given Sam knew his dad had mentioned he had a Saleen at his dealership.

The walk to the freeway overlook was quite some distance, but thankfully by now they all knew the best back roads to take to avoid being spotted, and it did help that it was in the dead of night with no moon. Sam had gotten used to the whole 'sneaking around at night' thing, mostly because he rarely felt tired after a good nap in the sun. It turned out, as usual, Ratchet had been right. Sunshine did make him feel better. He felt stronger, wide awake and energized after a short nap, and rarely realized he'd gone the whole night without watching the time pass. Mikaela had teased him mercilessly for being the 'super robot's version of the energizer bunny'. He hadn't been amused. Nonetheless, this evening was perfect for sneaking about. There were only a few cars on the highway, so the dash across was fairly easy to do without being spotted. Once they were out in the rolling hills, Sam actually enjoyed the journey. "So…" He said as they settled down on the hill overlooking the busy road. "I heard that you're just about ready for duty."

"That is correct."

"Cool, know what you'll be doing?"

"I believe I am to be stationed with Hound and Bumblebee for some reconnaissance. The Decepticon activity has been sporadic as of late."

"So I've heard. No one's seen much of them since the incident at the dam." Sam agreed quietly. He'd heard about the twins' escapade, and wondered like the rest what the cons were up to. They seemed to pick their targets so randomly, Sam couldn't figure it out. Neither could anyone else on base. It was peculiar, and frustrating, as hundreds of lives had been forfeit to the Decepticons' ruthless tactics. It was peculiar that the cons would target humans like this, everyone agreed. But no one could come up with the reason WHY. It was very frustrating, especially to Lennox and his team, who were trying their hardest to prevent civilian casualties.

"May I ask you one question, Sam Witwicky?" The mech said suddenly.

"Uh… sure. Shoot."

"Shoot?" Blue optics stared intently down at him. "Shoot what, exactly?"

"It's an expression. It means, go ahead and ask."

"I see. Human speech patterns are quite puzzling at times."

"Yeah… but they're fun just the same." Sam grinned. "So what's your question?"

"Your parental units, and your comrades are aware of our presence. As is your military and ranking officers in your governing body, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Why then do they insist on concealing our presence, when as of yet, so many of your people do know of our existence, and more are becoming aware of the situation? It seems to me that the more who are aware of the danger that is ever present, the better it would be for us all."

Sam blinked. "Well, it's not as easy as that. Most people out there aren't ready for you guys yet… I think they need to be introduced to it slowly. If everyone finds out alien robots have been living on Earth under the protective wing of the U.S. government, there'll be a lot of slag going down, ya know?"

"I understand." The mech said thoughtfully, his expression calm but reflective. "Panic would instill violence and irrational behavior. Organics are very undisciplined with their emotions."

"You got that right." Sam grinned as he glanced back down at the freeway overpass below them. The busy rush of traffic zipped forward and backwards like a constant flow of water. Red lights leaving, white lights shining on the hills around them as cars flashed to and fro busy at any time of night. There was a mix of vehicles to choose from, and Sam found himself watching the mech's expressive blue optics as they flashed from one vehicle to the next, studying ones that he found appealing. He had the feeling this would take a while, so Sam sprawled out on the grass and stared upwards at the stars spread out above them. He often wondered where Cybertron had sparkled in the sky. He knew it wasn't there to the visible eye, even advanced optics couldn't pick it up, but Bumblebee had pointed out the general area he thought that his former home had been. It was somewhere around the Big Dipper, he thought.

He wasn't even sure when he drifted off, but a swaying motion brought him back awake with a jolt. "Huh?" He sat up and blinked, finding himself cradled in a large hand.

Bright blue optics stared down at him appraisingly from a vaguely familiar, yet oddly unfamiliar face. The mech now sported a battle mask reminiscent of Optimus' but with a reflective blue visor similar to Jazz's. His form was sleek and dark, with only glints of silver shining off headlights from the highway, so Sam couldn't see the precise details, however it held more bulk than his protoform had, and was oddly compact at the same time. In the dim light from the highway, Sam could see wheels positioned near the ankles, reminiscent of Jazz's style. Headlights were positioned just beneath the shoulder blades, slim and narrow beams turned off, thankfully. Right smack dab in the center, a sleek red Autobot symbol was positioned in the middle of his chest. He had a black helmet with two red reflectors positioned at his temples. On either side of his shoulders, doors jutted out in a wide splayed position. As Sam studied him, the visor and face mask retracted, revealing a somber silver face with bright blue optics piercingly studying his reaction.

Sam thought as he stood up slowly, studying the mech's figure carefully. "You found one you liked, I take it?" he asked nervously. The mech looked completely different from Barricade, thankfully. There was nothing vicious or pointy about this one, he was sleek and aerodynamic, and held himself tall. The design was also completely different, so Sam didn't find much to fear.

"I did. This form is suitable. It may require further revisions, however it will do for now." The mech replied simply. "Shall we return to base?" Sam nodded and sat back down in his palm as he began to move. They walked the distance over the hill, until finally they reached the side road they'd used to access the overlook, and Sam felt his stomach drop as he was placed back on the ground.

What happened next he expected, of course. However, he was totally unprepared for the result.

At first, Sam felt his heart speed up in fear as he stared when the mech finished his transformation sequence. Sitting there gleaming in the dim night was a black car that was eerily reminiscent of the Saleen S281 Extreme that Barricade had favored. Only… there were a few subtle changes.

The front grill was sleeker and less boxy, the hood rounded. The wheels sported fancy alloy spokes, and there were several aerodynamic vents on the side of the doors. The car also had a spoiler, which Sam remembered Barricade had also sported, however this one was dual layered and much taller. Also, right smack dab on the rear of the car between the dimly glowing red tail lights was an Autobot insignia emblazoned in black above the plate. It was eerily similar, yet oddly different, and Sam found himself wanting to suddenly hum a theme song to a familiar series that Mikaela was so enamored with. The mech had chosen the Ford Mustang Shelby Cobra GT500KR. The make and model were so similar to the Saleen, that Sam had almost hyperventilated, but upon closer examination he realized the car was different. Just as the spark of the mech was of similar form, it was also independent of Barricade.

Sam let out a low whistle and opened the passenger door, sliding into the black car and admiring the sleek interior. "Man… you got nice preferences. I half expected you to take a cop car though."

"You deduce this based on my previous incarnation?" The tenor voice spoke out from the speakers calmly as the car accelerated smoothly with a deep vibration of it's powerful engine.

"Yeah. He had the whole 'bad cop' thing going."

"I admit, I find your law enforcement to be a prime example of stability. They cherish law and order above all, something I find appealing. There is far too lax of enforcement among our ranks."

Sam gulped. Great. The twins would LOVE that. "Take it one step at a time. You'll give Sunny and Sides spark-attacks if you start quoting laws to them."

"It would do them some good, if you ask me."

"Oh boy."

They drove on in silence, as Sam sat comfortably reclined in the seat of the moving car. The more he stared at the interior and thought about it, the more questions popped into his mind. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"You may."

"You really don't remember anything?" Sam asked quietly. "I mean, no flashes, no insights, nothing?"

There was silence for a time before the answer came. "I do not possess memories of my former incarnations, however there are… glimpses….which I have lately begun to establish as past memories."

"Glimpses?" Sam wondered if he could guess what exactly he meant by that.

"During recharge, one particular image replays upon my processors. From what I have been told, I believe it is the final attack on my previous incarnation."

"The seekers gunning you down?"

"Precisely. The images are incomplete, but vividly fresh." The voice sounded thoughtful as the car smoothly took the turns on the back roads. "I also experience the emotions associated with that scene, quite powerful and violent."

"Figures." Sam muttered.

"I also contain the image recollection from the incarnation previous to Barricade."

Sam looked up hesitantly, wondering just how much he did remember. The teen had been told by the others the details of this whole situation, so he knew what that scene contained. However, like the rest he had no clue as to much beyond that. But something tugged at his mind, leading him onwards, twisting curious thought processes closer. "Hey…about that." He said softly. "I'm not sure this would work, but from what Optimus has told me about the Matrix and the Allspark, isn't it possible that there's more hidden there somewhere you can't find it?"

"You refer to your connection to the Matrix." Came the thoughtful remark. "I am no expert on it's properties, however it is likely that there is a connection. If you wish to attempt memory retrieval, I would not be against such an action. Like the others, I seek answers to my past."

Sam smiled a bit. He liked this mech. He wasn't violent and temperamental like Barricade, yet still had the brutal honest bluntness that he had been capable of. "Ok… but let's pull over for this. I don't want you wrecking out on a curve cause I pulled up a form of some sexy femme from your past."

"That is unlikely." However, the mech slowed down and pulled off to the shoulder, parking there for their attempt.

Sam closed his eyes and lightly placed his hands on either side of the seat as he relaxed. The connection and flow came easily to him, almost like relaxing your muscles to relieve tension. Instantly he felt the awareness of the mech beneath him as he connected to him. He would have been terrified to attempt this when he'd been Barricade, that was one mind he didn't want to see into. However, this mech was far more organized, disciplined and calm. There was no frightening thoughts and violent images that came to the surface, and this gave Sam the chance to dive closer to his own 'core' where the power of the Allspark lay, and embrace it's warm glow into himself. It was a familiar feeling now, and came easily to his mere thoughts. Sam supposed that the metal fusion with his organics had helped speed the process along. Ever since he'd woke from stasis, he'd found it easier to connect and join with the power flowing through him. He could feel it constantly there, thrumming inside him like a generator, running through his veins just out of reach until he called it. He'd perfected self-defense using the power from within, and had even managed to set different levels for himself, from vaporizing to a mild jolt that Bumblebee claimed 'tickled'. He was also no longer afraid of it. He knew now it was a part of him, and it wasn't going to harm him, as it's own existence depended on his survival. It was one with him, and he with it, and he'd come to accept this.

Therefore when he plunged into the flow of power, he knew what to do. He focused on the signature of the spark he was connected with, and searched for any sign of it in the deep resonating well of the Matrix. It was like typing a word into a search engine, in a way. Sam could narrow down what was relevant and what wasn't. While he knew Barricades' memories might be helpful, he also didn't want the mech to become the ex-con again. He also knew Optimus would be against 're-programming' him. So Sam just did a search for some basic information. It turned out that there wasn't a whole lot there to begin with. Sorting through the vast network of the Matrix was like looking for one grain of black sand amidst a beach of white. But Sam also felt a guiding force pulling him in the right direction, so when suddenly he felt a thrilling charge in the very center of his being, he knew he'd found it, and dove into the memories, linking to his 'client' to patch them over to him at the same time Sam watched.

Flashes of memories… Cybertron tall and mighty, it's beautiful city towering overhead with bright lights and flowing traffic in the air and on the ground.

The feel of wind against a sleek transport as they sped down a road weaving in and out of other mechs running along the same route.

Faces, mechs that Sam knew, and some he didn't recognize but knew just the same through this link.

Optimus giving orders directly to the mech, and laughing as something witty was said.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe fleeing as fast as their feet could take them being pursued by the mech.

A line of soldiers standing at attention, listening as orders were given directly to them by him.

And finally… a scene that formed in it's entirety, before their watching minds.

"Sir, reporting for duty."

"At ease." Optimus rumbled, standing up from his seat and walking to approach the watching mech. Oddly, Sam thought his optics appeared dimmer, as if the leader was weighing a heavy burden on his shoulders. Rumbling explosions sounded distantly from around them, and Sam realized this was war-time. The room they were in was battered and dull, clearly not a seat of office, but a hidden base. "You know your responsibilities and what is at stake with this mission."

"I do, sir."

Optimus seemed to study the mech before him with a torn glance. "It's not too late. I can send any number of other candidates."

"With all due respect, sir, you can't do that." The mech replied firmly. "You require a high-ranking experienced officer for this job. Were you to send a lesser candidate, the Decepticons would be likely suspicious that this could be a ruse or trick. You require my expertise in this mission. I would not settle for allowing anyone else to carry out a mission as important as this."

"You understand the consequences of what this means."

"I do sir. What is a soldier's life to the greater cause? The most important thing at the moment is for you to get the Allspark to safety. I gladly lay my life down to give you this chance."

There was a long pause before Optimus turned to face his soldier, and then saluted sharply. The mech returned the motion with perfect precision. "I trust if there is any chance you can escape after the siege, you will take every possible action."

"I will sir. I have outlined safety protocols in my processor to protect vital functions and memories, and preserve my core from tampering. They will believe they have broken me after getting the restricted codes and information, as I have programmed a response to mimic a broken personality. However, I assure you there is no concern in my mind they will break through my protocols. If I can return, I will, sir."

"I have faith in you my friend. May Primus' keep watch over you and guide you safely home to us once more."

"Thank you sir."

The memory faded and switched over to the flashes that Sam had been told about, brutal torture and painful experiences as the mech came face to face with his new body at the hands of a very twisted former scientist….

Then everything twisted and switched, and suddenly the images were most darker. Brutal training, violent damage and cruel words, in-fighting among ranks, and cold-blooded murders. Sam's stomach twisted watching Barricade's memories flash to and fro, mostly fraught with violence and hate, vengeance and glory. He also could feel the connection wavering, and so he wasn't unhappy as he released the link and let the images and memories fade as he pulled out of the Matrix's hold and slowly released his connection, opening his eyes.

The car shuddered beneath him, and Sam shivered in response. While the images had been fleeting, brief, they had learned some very important things in this little reflection. Firstly, that the mech had indeed been an Autobot, and a high-ranking officer under Optimus' command who had been sent on a very important mission to apparently be captured and interrogated by the enemy. He had gone willingly, knowing the risks and consequences. Secondly, he had been familiar with many of the others, and seemed to have an extra close bond with the twins, in an antagonistic way. Thirdly, even as Barricade he had rebelled against his programming, knowing that it wasn't right and something was wrong. He had hated Starscream passionately without really knowing why.

Sam let out a slow breath. "Wow… so… that helped a bit." He murmured.

"Indeed." Came the quiet response, a bit shaken still. "It answers many questions, and I believe now I will know who precisely I was… Optimus will know."

Sam blinked with realization. He was right, if he'd been sent on such a specialized mission, surely Optimus would now know exactly who he was. He grinned. "You'll finally have a name."

"Indeed. It will be a relief to finally accept a designation. There is only so much one can take when given nicknames from two certain mechs."

Sam grinned wider. "What, the twins weren't being creative enough?"

"Too creative." Came the rumbling growl. "I do not appreciate being called 'Bucket-head'."

Sam grinned wider. "No doubt."

The car's engine started with a roar, vibrations shivering up through the leather seats as the Shelby Cobra tore across the dirt back onto the road with more horsepower than Sam had ever felt even while riding with Bumblebee. The acceleration was smooth and he took the corners fast and hard, and with one glance Sam realized that they were going far faster than they should. "Um… where are we going in such a hurry?"

"I have just received a distress call from Ironhide." Was the terse reply. "He is pinned down in the city, under fire."

Sam felt his blood go cold. "Oh crap."

"Indeed."

The Shelby squealed around a corner, tires spinning as they floored it down onto the highway, heading forward at breakneck speed like a dark arrow in the night. "How many?"

"Two, possibly three of the Seekers." Was the quiet reply.

Sam felt his heart pound even harder. Them again… Great. "Floor it."

"I'm going as fast as I am able to, Sam." Came the rather irritated response. "Unfortunately, we are about to be pursued."

"Pursued?" Sam blinked and glanced over his shoulder out the rear window in time to see flashing lights hot on their tail. For a moment, panic course through him, before it occurred to him that there really wasn't any need to be afraid of cops anymore, considering the only 'bad cop' that had freaked him out was now rather mild-mannered in comparison to his alternate personality. Then it clicked. "Dude, scan one of them and take on their paint job."

"Why?"

"Because, cops get to break the rules and everyone gets out of their way when you go screaming lights and sirens. Plus they won't bother us if you're one of them."

"Good enough." And Sam heard the tell-tale digital initialization sequence as the mech sent a pulse behind him and scanned the closest patrol unit. Then, as Sam watched the cab around him shifted and morphed as it sprouted police scanners, computer consoles and a wail of a siren pierced the night along with others as suddenly the cop cars pulled up beside them.

Sam gulped and hunched down quickly, hissing in a low voice. "You have a hologram, right?"

"Yes." And with a flicker of light, the form of a plain clothed clean shaven man with dark glasses and black outfit sat in the driver's seat. With a casual glance over at the adjacent cop cars, the mech seemed to realize the slight problem, and before Sam's eyes his outfit rippled to replicate the local police officer in the car beside him. With a casual lift of his hand, the mech's holoform succeeded in confusing the officer long enough to tear ahead, lights flaring as they sped down the highway into the night.

Just another night on the job, Sam thought.


	39. Chapter 26: Right and Wrong

"So…done with your training I take it

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 26: Right and Wrong  
**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

The moment they squealed around the corner, Sam was strongly reminded of how eerily familiar the scene playing out before them was.

The military had been quick to chase the locals out of the immediate area, evacuating buildings and setting up road blocks as they approached. The mech slowed to a crawl as Sam leaned out the window to flash his special security badge. After a brief moments' study they were waved through without trouble. Sam found it very convenient. He could avoid speeding tickets with his new friend here, and get past road blocks into dangerous zones that probably could vaporize him in one second.

Sweet.

Not that Sam was really ready to die, but he certainly had more confidence now. His brief stunt of military training had now been implemented with some special ops taught by Optimus himself using his own innate skills. While he knew he was far from invulnerable, he also knew that he was a bit tougher than most normal humans. He was a bit eager to test out just what he could do.

However, that didn't include dodging missiles.

His ride thought it absurd that he even WANTED to be inside the action zone. "You must stay out of the combat zone, am I clear?"

"Dude, why you gotta ruin it for me?" Sam complained as they slunk past the barricade. "I get you in here, help you out, and you tell me I gotta hang back and watch?"

"Your body cannot withstand any direct hit from our weaponry, or any shrapnel generated from our attacks. I also have a responsibility to protect you, given your unique properties of which as of yet the Decepticons have thankfully not attempted to wrest from our control."

"Hey hey, this is my life we're talking about. I'm going in. I'll hang back but I'm not staying out of the way."

There was silence in the cab as Sam swore he heard the mech sigh. "Very well. You have an affinity towards breaking the rules."

"Familiar I take it?"

"Incredibly. I dislike those who break rules."

"Then why'd you take my advice and go black and white on us?"

"They stand for order and law. I have a chance to bring that discipline to our ranks, despite your rejection of authority that this position represents."

"Hey, I'm all for cops protecting people… It's great when they're like, all good and stuff and not using the system to get what they want, but THIS ISN'T THE TIME FOR THIS CONVERSATION!"

The mech screeched to a halt, doors opening in a second as Sam flung himself out of the interior and dove for cover. A plasma cannon discharged inches away from his head, and Sam swore he heard a laugh.

Ironhide sure was having fun.

Sam wondered why he'd asked for backup at all.

He carefully peeked around the corner as the cop finished his transformation and crouched under cover. The weapons specialist was currently in the center of the street surrounded by several large semi-trucks overturned and smoking along with a few deep craters. Ironhide himself was virtually untouched, though covered in plaster and asphalt remains. There were a few scorch marks that showed he'd had a few close calls, but the black armor was mostly untouched.

And he was laughing in the most uncanny way.

The cop on the other hand was very calm and studying the scene with a quiet intensity. In the bright city lights it was easier to see the new changes in Sam's psudo guardian, some white paint splashed on the doors and across his helmet. He had brought his battle-mask up, and Sam watched with interest as his fist compacted and something sharp and projectile appeared in his grasp. Sam's eyes lifted skyward to the three sleek jets making runs one after another from different angles. That hadn't seem to stop Ironhide, who had damaged at least one of them, given the thick trail of smoke following the silver one, Starscream he guessed. Sam squinted up to study them closely. Sure enough, it was the same troublesome trio: the silver, the blue, and the purple F-22's weren't exactly standard paint jobs. As Sam watched, the cop brandished the sharp item in his hand and then with one expert flash of his wrist, something small went flying out of it like a streak of silver into the air. For a moment, Sam thought he'd missed as the flash of the blue-charged energon weapon soared skywards, then he saw a satisfying flash of light as the weapon impacted on the underside of the blue jet's wing. With a screech of engines and wobble of trajectory, the blue one spiraled out of control and vanished on the other side of the buildings.

"What the…?" Ironhide whirled around and glared at the mech who had thrown the weapon. He had been so wrapped up in his 'fun' he hadn't noticed their arrival. "You!" He said, blinking in surprise. "Are you alone?"

"No. Sam is here."

"Oh wonderful." Ironhide growled.

"Hey! I heard that!"

"Sam!" Ironhide barked. "Stay out of the line of fire! You should not be here."

"Yeah well…" Sam cringed as another missile impacted nearby sending slivers of cement flying. "We're all you got so deal with it!"

"Some help you are!" Ironhide growled, taking aim at both remaining seekers with each arm and firing precise enough that required them both to dodge. "A twerp who can't hit the broadside of a barn and a turncoat who has almost no weapons!"

"If you prefer to stand solo, be my guest." The cop state calmly, another thrown bladed weapon snapping into his fist from his hidden cache. "You seem to be quite capable of taking them out on your own."

Ironhide glared at him with obvious irritation. "That's what I'm worried about."

The cop shot him a sideways look. "Why?"

"I have not yet determined what their goal is."

"They attacked you without provocation?"

"It appears so." The cop went silent with an unreadable expression. Ironhide turned his attention back to the sky. "Stop yappin' and start shootin, unless those little pea-shooters of yours are short-range."

"These 'pea-shooters' are capable of severing limbs, unlike your cannons which can only produce blast damage."

"All right, fine. Point taken. Just shoot."

Sam had to admit, while the cop didn't have the firepower Ironhide had, his ability to analyze enemy weaknesses was quite impressive. He would observe the flight patterns of the seekers and then throw aiming for a weak point. His weapons also seemed to have unique homing tracers mounted into them, as even when a Seeker twisted to avoid it, the weapon still found it's mark. He didn't seem to have the hot-headed battle lust that Ironhide had, rather he stayed very calm and collected, never 'breaking a sweat' so to speak. It was quite inspiring in a way. Sam could see swiftly why Optimus would choose such a cool head to lead an important mission.

Which reminded Sam of what they'd discussed. The Seekers had just attacked without reason… They typically didn't do that. Granted, the Autobots hadn't been able to really narrow down why they picked certain targets over others, but the Decepticons hadn't made an outright frontal assault since their attack on Barricade. It WAS unusual that they would choose to attack A. the Autobot's head gun, and B. in the middle of a crowded city where it was very obvious what they were up to, and would draw much attention.

Sam frowned, wondering what the connection was.

His eyes lifted as he heard a loud screech of engines coming in low and fast. Sam had a sinking feeling in his stomach the moment he saw them begin to position themselves into a single flying formation. Ironhide spotted it, however, and swore vehemently in his native tongue to which Sam grinned at the colorful metaphors it inspired. Unfortunately his grin vanished when he realized they were about to pull the same move they'd done on Barricade. He knew instinctively what they were going to do. How he knew, he couldn't be sure, as he hadn't been present during the attack against their former colleague. Perhaps it was a throwback from seeing it through the memories of the cop, but Sam wasted no time in throwing himself far behind the building and hunkering down as far from the blast zone as he could. Two loaded seekers was trouble, even for Ironhide. Sam could hear orders being snapped in the digital language of the mechs as the weapons specialist told the cop where to go stand. He also snapped something Sam could only wince at and feel glad his mother wasn't around to hear.

And then, it hit.

Two pairs of missiles compounded with plasma cannons convened on the two mechs in the center of the street. They had little shelter to use, only the trucks, and so the moment the blast hit Sam FELT it. It was like the scream of a mother watching her child being struck by a car, pure agonizing terror and fear. The cry of pain through the Matrix. The cry of sparks in agony. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, grasping his fist against his heart, the din of battle dying out around him as he drew a shaky breath, the feeling driving all his instincts to a knife-fine point. He could SEE the scene even with his eyes closed, smoke hovering around the smoking crater, and two bodies scattered away from the impact. One was whole, the other was not. In his entire life, he had NEVER seen, felt and heard something so powerful. It drove him to the brink of insanity. At the same time, it inspired him like nothing else ever had. Sam stifled a gasp of pain and quickly opened his eyes surging to his feet without hesitation. This was why he was here. He was here to help them.

He dove out into the street as the smoke began to clear and hardly batted an eye as he saw the exact scene his mental eyes had shown him. The cop was sprawled out against a building, pushing himself back up with a shake of his head, slightly stunned by the impact, but whole. Ironhide was half-buried under a pile of rubble. It was towards him that Sam ran. "Ironhide!" at first, a strong sense of fear gripped him when he began to think of the possibility the mech could be dead. "Please no." He muttered to himself, shoving the nearest slab of concrete out of his way without a second thought to how much it must weigh. "Ironhide!"

"Slag it boy… stop yellin' or you'll bring em' back." Came a terse growl as blue optics flickered back to life before him as the mech shifted positions trying to sit up.

Sam felt a wash of relief as he pulled another slab off the pile to help Ironhide. He was alive, but Sam could still feel the agonizing pain surging through his unique connection to their very life force. "Sorry." He said puffing a bit as he hurled it to the side and peered under the rubble. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"Your arm."

Ironhide blinked at the human blankly then his optics flickered as he appeared to run a diagnostic. "Slaggit. Not the cannons." He muttered, pulling himself out of the rubble and glaring down at his right arm which was severed at the elbow, wires sparking and energon dripping down onto the ground. Ironhide grunted and abruptly the energon flow stopped as he triggered his manual flow cap. "If it's in pieces I'm going to tear those sons of glitches into ten million!"

Sam grinned and began to tear through the rubble. "I'd pay to see that." He shoved a chunk of metal out of the way and saw the offending object buried beneath it. "Here it is!"

"I'll get it, Sam. You need to get out of the way."

"Hell no, who's going to fix it for you!" Sam protested with a surge of anger, trying to push some of the cement out of the way so he could get his hands on the limb.

"Certainly not you!" Came the sharp reply. "You are in danger here, Sam. You must retreat before they circle back!"

"And what about you and the cop?" Sam demanded, pausing in his digging to glare up at the mech who was kneeling protectively over him. A quick glance to the side told him that the mech was still trying to recover his equilibrium, but appeared undamaged on the exterior save for some scorch marks. He'd likely taken a strong blow to the processors. "Look, I'm not this fragile kid anymore Ironhide!" he snapped irritably right back at the ornery weapons specialist. "You trained me, Ratchet and Optimus taught me, Bumblebee and Hound showed me how to lay low. I can DO this and you need to stop treating me like a kid and more like a soldier. Optimus gives me that respect, why can't you?"

Ironhide blinked down at him with a clearly surprised expression, but the moment of hesitation his optics snapped to a different direction with sudden alarm. "Sam! Get down!" He snapped, immediately shifting his position to a protective crouch over the human the moment Sam's eyes shifted to the direction Ironhide had looked.

Standing there only feet away from them was the third seeker whom the cop had shot down earlier. And he looked pissed. One wing was scorched and blackened, the other missing a whole tip, shredded at the end with wires and cables poking out.

And there was a plasma cannon leveled straight at their faces, glowing white hot as the seeker stared coldly down at them with crimson optics narrow in rage. There was no mercy in that gaze, only fact. Their lives were in his fist, about to end.

Sam's heart leapt into his throat as that glowing cannon spun slowly in front of them, each click seeming to take ages instead of milliseconds like it should. All sound slowed and muffled, motions dropped to a crawl as he watched the cannon click into place once… twice…He knew that should that cannon finish it's cycle, their lives would both end here and now, and Allspark or no, he wasn't sure exactly what would happen. All he knew was he had to do something before it was too late.

A sudden hot surge of power suddenly released from his chest through his arm and into his fingertips as the call for help was answered. All he could see was the movement of the cannon slowly clicking into it's third and final position, and he knew instinctively that he was going to be faster. It felt like lightning racing down his hand into his palm, like grasping the sun itself and squeezing. He couldn't even begin to describe it as white blue light fringed his vision, but his eyes never left the Seeker in front of them. Slowly, the seeker's optics widened in shock but too slow for him to do anything as the white-blue energy slammed right into his chest. In one strong blow, the cockpit in the center of his body shattered as the energy plowed into him, sending him flying down the street as if he'd been struck by a phenomenal force. With an impact strong enough to plow over the building he struck, the seeker hit the wall and the entire ground shuddered.

There was utter silence as everyone absorbed what had just happened. Then, Sam let out a slow breath of air that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Holy Primus…" Came a soft whisper above him. "What did you just do?"

Sam blinked and lifted his gaze to Ironhide, who was staring down at him incredulously.

Correction, he wasn't staring at him… he was staring at his arm.

Sam lowered his gaze and his breath caught again as he felt a sudden thrilling rush flood through his very being at finally seeing what had startled Ironhide so much. Still smoking, a perfect replica of Ironhide's cannon was fused with his arm, a part of it, replacing it…. It sparkled silver and brand new in the moonlight, crackling with faint ribbons of blue light dashing in and out of it's barrel like remnants of a lightning strike. It tingled down his arm like a rumbling generator, a buzzing pleasant vibration that reminded him of an idling engine. And the odd thing was, it didn't feel the least bit unnatural. He could FEEL the energy burning hot inside the barrel, FEEL the way the circuitry worked, feel HOW it worked. Though it was only a fourth of the size of the mech's own weapon, it had packed a punch ten times the capability Ironhide had wielded.

The answer was simple. It was powered by the Allspark.

The moment his attention had focused on the cannon that was now his arm, a change happened. Before his eyes the metal began to ripple and shift, melding smoothly back into a streamlined linear shape before it retook the form of his transformed limb. Metal fused slowly into familiar form and then hardened again into a matted finish. Sam couldn't even force himself to blink as he slowly flexed his hand, finding it moved as normal… Well… normal considering it now shone a dull silver in the light. He slowly moved his left hand over to rest against his right, but found nothing out of the ordinary as his hand met what felt like normal skin.

But he knew better. Something BIG had just happened.

Ironhide knew it too. "Sam." He said in a low warning voice terse with concern and worry. "Sam, look at me." The human slowly lifted his gaze upward, the world still swimming around him eerily out of touch with his mind. "We need to move. We cannot stay here. They will not stay away long." Sam gulped slowly, his gaze going to the blasted seeker laying against the building. Ironhide's gaze lifted as well, darkening as he straightened up. "Wait here." He ordered in a dark voice.

That abruptly snapped Sam out of his daze. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Taking care of the garbage." Was the cold reply as the mech lifted his undamaged arm with it's missiles and began to stride towards the injured and unconscious seeker.

"Wait!" Sam surged to his feet, leaving Ironhide's severed arm behind as he dashed between the mech's feet and skidded to a stop in front of him in record speed. "Stop. You can't attack him when he's defenseless."

Ironhide stopped, his gaze narrow and hard. "And why not?" he growled irritably. "He's offline, makes a better target."

Sam felt a sudden surge of anger almost explode out of him. "LIKE HELL!" Ironhide actually took a step back, though whether it was due to the humans' sudden ferocity or the accompanying crackle of blue energy snapping around him Sam couldn't say. Either way it had the desired effect. Ironhide didn't dare step closer to the angry avatar of power. "What separates you guys from them huh? The good guys from the bad guys? Well in MY world, it's the good guys who don't do dirty stuff like killing defenseless prisoners! The bad guys do that kind of crap! So you have two choices. Leave him, or take him prisoner, but if you're going to attack him you gotta get past me first." And Sam felt the white hot energy forming in his fist, and clenched it tightly trying to squelch the urge to lift it against his friend.

Ironhide stared at him intently, blue optics unblinking on such a small figure so powerfully stopping him from acting. They stared at each other for a very long moment, before a third voice broke their silence. "He's right. It would not be just to simply terminate his existence while he were unable to defend himself. We do not have time to bring him with us. He will not disturb us, now is the time to retreat. We must go now before his comrades return for him." Ironhide frowned, but didn't look back at the black and white mech who had limped up behind them. However, his words had the desired effect. Without a word, Ironhide turned and stomped back to the rubble and snatched his detached limb up from the ground. Both the cop and Sam watched in silence, before Sam was startled as a hand deposited itself in front of him. "Get up, Sam. We must leave swiftly."

"Wait." Sam said firmly, not giving him a second glance as he faced the Seeker. He hadn't moved, and it was obvious why. Bright blue painted the buildings, and it wasn't part of the mech's paintjob, but part of his innards. Sam knew with one look that he hadn't killed him, but the mech was dangerously close to death. So, he had to act. He refused to take a life, even if the Decepticon wouldn't have hesitated in taking his in return. He quickly climbed up onto the frontal chassis and pulled himself directly above where the cockpit was. With the glass shattered, Sam could see right down to the mech's shielded spark chamber, and see it's pulse as he studied it carefully. Each pulse felt like a heartbeat that reverberated around him as a pebble might send ripples across the surface of water. He was in tune with the very energy that gave life to these monolithic creatures. He could sense it, feel it, and use it. He knelt down and put his hands flat on the mech's chest and closed his eyes, feeling the sinking feeling in his stomach as he plunged into the Allsparks' power. He could feel the pulse, see it in his mind's eye, and urged it to grow stronger. The metal under his hands started to heat up, but didn't seem to burn him despite the fact he knew it had to be hotter than a smelting forge. He ignored it, and instead let the power within him flow into the spark's energy, powering it, strengthening it. Though he didn't witness it with his own eyes, he knew that the energon leaks were being shut off, the grievous wounds repaired, and the spark strengthening. At the same time, Sam felt himself pulled into the mech's consciousness.

He had never flown before. Despite having Skyfire as a companion, Sam had never had the chance to join him in the skies. Suddenly, he found himself thrown into the full-blown experience of being in control of where he went, how he flew, soaring into the skies with more speed than he could ever imagine. There mere force of it brought tears to his eyes as he watched the sky and stars spin wildly around him, lifting his heart to soar as high as he flew. Along with that feeling, Sam was treated to flashes of the mech's personality. From what he was able to grasp, the Decepticon was proud and an efficient soldier with a long history of successful battles. He had shot down many enemy fighters, assisted in thousands of assaults and attacks, and had a brutal track record of being merciless upon enemies. However, there was one thing that Sam picked up as his work finished. There was a distinct echo of justness about the mech. He believed in what he did, and had a code of honor. He refused to kill a defenseless person, and did not relish in causing pain and suffering, nor in causing untoward damage to the residents of Earth. It surprised Sam to find this out about his patient. He had figured all the Decepticons were the same, hating the fleshling organics, thinking they were no higher than bugs, and not caring if humans lost their lives. This mech, while he wouldn't hold back if attacked in like, he didn't go out of his way to cause more damage than he needed to. He had a sense of honor.

Sam opened his eyes and sat back, feeling his head spinning wildly with the information and the tingling residual energy flooding through him. Each time he did this it felt stronger, more powerful, and more controlled. A glance at his palms showed him the patterns of runes were fading from his now slightly metallic-hued skin along with flickers of blue light dancing about. He could even feel the energy now, like a pleasant warm hum of warmth.

"Sam. We must go." The calm voice of his psudo guardian spoke from behind him, not betraying the tenseness of the situation as Ironhide stomped back over, arm in hand nervously watching the sky. "They will return the moment they realize we've taken down their comrade."

"Yeah…right." Sam said softly, and sprung into action by sliding into the pre-offered hand. Everything still seemed out of touch to him, as if he were only half-awake. He didn't even realize they were running away from the scene until Ironhide yelled at them to slow down. "He won't die, right?" Sam said quietly, his thoughts still drifting back to the seeker. He felt bad having caused so much damage. He had almost killed him!

"No. You damaged his systems significantly, but through your restorative actions he will come online on his own if left to his self-repair." The mech's bright blue optics lowered to stare intently at the human in his palm. "You held back."

"I did?" Sam asked quietly. "Could have fooled me. It felt… powerful."

"You didn't wish to kill him, or he would be dead. That is the power of the Allspark."

Sam blinked. Astonishingly, he had a point. He had seen how destructive that cube's power had been, and he'd held it in his hands and used that power. It would have been easy to vaporize the mech, and as he thought about it he realized that somehow, innately, he probably knew how to do it too. But the mech was right. He hadn't wanted to kill the seeker, only stop him. And stop him he had. "Wow." He said in a low voice. "Talk about control…"

The mech's optics slid down to stare at him keenly. "Control indeed. Use it wisely and it will serve you. But the moment you don't respect the power you wield, it will consume you, for that is the nature of power, Sam."

Sam lifted his eyes to meet the optics watching him. "How do you know so much about power?"

The mech regarded him with a sudden cold expression that sent shivers down his spine as the optics seemed to shift just slightly towards a more violet spectrum. "I know those who wield power. And those who use it. There is a difference."

"What's the difference?"

"Those who wield it are unafraid of the consequences." Came the quiet voice. "Those who use it are wise enough to know not to use it."


	40. Chapter 27: What the Future Holds

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 27: What the Future Holds**

* * *

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You are being unusually silent. Are you well?"

"Fine… I guess." Sam replied quietly to the cop, his eyes focused on his hands which were folded in his lap, loosely clasped. "I just need to think."

"I would offer you reassurance if I could scan your vital systems, however that is not an option at this time."

"It's ok, man." Sam sighed, letting his head fall back against the plush headrest of the Shelby, staring out the window at the dark night sky with it's stars dusky dim under the bright lights of the city. Due to Ironhide's injury, he was unable to transform, so they were holed out at the military base waiting for Ratchet to arrive to repair him. The weapons specialist had also done Sam the favor of informing the medic as well as Optimus about his condition.

Great. One conversation he wasn't looking forward to.

"Sam." The human's eyes slid over to witness bright blue optics staring at him intently through the open window. "Are you functioning within safe parameters?"

"I think so. Don't worry Ironhide, I'm not gonna pass out or go nuclear or anything." The mech frowned and Sam had the distinct feeling that he didn't believe him. "I think I know my own body's reaction to the Allspark by now. I'm exhausted, but not feeling ready to blast anything, k?"

"You achieved something no human ever could do, and something Ratchet did not anticipate." Ironhide argued from his sitting position next to the Shelby. They were currently housed in an open roofed warehouse to avoid any prying eyes from non-cleared personnel. At least here Ironhide had room to strech and walk around if he liked, a luxury he had not had inside the supply truck that had brought him here. Will was going to have a fun time chewing him out, no doubt, for destroying half the city again. Sam would have loved to see that. However, when it came to the unknown mystery of the Allspark, Ironhide could be just as suffocating as Ratchet when it came to protecting Sam. "Do you even realize the implications?"

"Yes!" Sam snapped, slamming a fist into his knee with frustration. "I know, ok! Stop riding my aft!" He rubbed his forehead as he realized that the Autobot's lingo was really starting to stick. He'd caught himself using their swear words more than once, luckily for him his mother hadn't been that quick on the uptake. Either that or she found aft less offensive than ass. His father just found the whole thing amusing. Sam, on the other hand was not amused at the moment.

He wasn't scared, oddly enough. He was worried.

If he could manipulate the metal alloy in his body now to form into other shapes, what else could he do, and what did that mean for him? What would Mikaela think? Up till now she had been very understanding and accepting of what was happening to him, but then there was nothing physically changing other than some weird electricity and the occasional alien runes that appeared before vanishing. But for the last hour since the incident in the city, Sam had been studying his hands and had noticed that while they remained humanoid in form and felt normal to him, the metallic sheen remained. His right arm now held a distinct silver exodermal coating. He'd tried poking himself with a pocketknife and found it produced sparks on impact like metal should, yet he still could feel everything at his touch as if nothing had changed, and move his hand normally without any alteration in function. It was almost as if the organic and inorganic had completely fused into a unique substance that adapted to his needs and flowed like something out of a comic book. Sam was distinctly reminded of the Silver Surfer, Ironman or some character out of the X-men. The odd thing was, he'd long ago accepted this path was what was meant for him, and he was prepared for what it meant. He could deal with healing others by using the energy of the Allspark, and even using it to protect and defend himself offensively. However, when it came to morphing body parts he drew the line. Sure, he'd thought about the idea, what it might mean. He knew the Allspark was a mass shifter, from what Bumblebee and Optimus had told him of it's properties, so theoretically it meant he could wonder what it might be like to BE one of them. But now that he knew it actually WAS possible, Sam found his mind was having difficulty accepting the concept. When it had happened, he hadn't given it a second thought, it had come naturally with the need. Now that he knew he could do it, he couldn't seem to get it to happen again. Granted, he was a bit frightened of making the attempt for fear of blasting one of his friends, or blowing a hole in the wall nearby. On the other hand, he wanted to see just how far this could go, what he could do.

But would silver skin clash with his hair?

Sam grinned a bit, closing his eyes trying to block out Ironhides' intense stare as the mech watched him closely. He knew Bee wouldn't care, heck he'd probably be thrilled Sam could better relate and probably better protect himself. Even Optimus would likely find this situation appealing and complimentary to their defenses. But Sam wasn't worried about that.

For the first time, he began to realize that he just wasn't going to fit in on Earth with the normal folk anymore.

He ran a hand over his knee watching sparks of energy discharge into his jeans as he pulled the power out just to feel it thrumming through his entire body. It felt natural now. He knew how it worked, how it flowed, and how to control it. It was almost as if it were unconsciously talking to him or on the flipside, he was programming it with his very thoughts. A truly symbiotic relationship with a non-sentient entity of enormous power.

No, he wouldn't fit in, even if his skin returned to flesh-tone. What would happen if he used that power by accident, or worse, on purpose amidst the general public? What would happen if he were in a car accident or supposedly injured and taken to a hospital. The doctors would freak finding out what his body was composed of. His parents accepted that something had happened to him, but what would they say to their son who now was essentially half-alien? What would Mikaela say? It was one thing to be closely connected to the Autobots, quite another if your boyfriend was more related to them on a molecular level than to his own species. Would she accept that? Would she change her views of him?

Would she still love him?

Sam felt a surge of strong emotion heat his entire body as the stinging sensation of tears rose to his eyes. He rose a hand to his face to angrily wipe the tears away before they could spill over, and saw Ironhide still watching him, though his expression had softened. "She will not change her opinion of you Sam." He spoke in a low quiet voice, able to sense what Sam was thinking. "Spark mates are such for life."

Sam lifted his eyes back to the blue optics, and gave a faint smile. "Humans aren't like mechs, Ironhide. I know you guys have that whole spark bond thing…. But for us it's just myth, you know the 'one'…soul mates… it's not real, it's just fantasy."

"Perhaps." Ironhide admitted quietly. "I do not profess to know much about human bonds, however it does not take a medic to spot love." Sam blinked up at the weapons specialist with some surprise. "Love is the one universal constant, spark bonds be slagged. If your feelings are genuine, nothing can stand between two sparks, or hearts in this case."

"Ironhide.," Sam said quietly. "I had no idea you were such a romantic." He paused as something occurred to him, and he looked up sharply. "You talk as if you know how it feels."

It was rare to see Ironhide smile genuinely. If he ever smiled, it was often wry scarcasm or mirth at another's misfortune. But as Sam watched a genuine soft warm smile spread over the grizzled warrior's features. "I do understand it, Sam. Few of our kind are so fortunate to find our true spark mate… I am one of those lucky few."

Sam blinked, a bit startled by the news. "I never knew you had a family."

"My family are my teammates." Ironhide said firmly. "In the traditional sense that is. Our social structure is not the same as your 'nuclear family concept. In most cases those that give life to sparklings do not raise them as their own unless they are trained in such aspects. In cases such as myself and my mate, we were not qualified to raise and train a young life force, and therefore that duty fell to our ah… 'educational system' I suppose is the best term."

Sam couldn't keep from staring at the mech. All this time, he'd never heard Ironhide speak of his own personal life. War stories, sure he had them a dime a dozen. But never a life, a past… And now Sam found out that not only did he have a mate, but offspring. "Do… you know who they are at least?"

"No." Ironhide said simply with a small shrug. "Mechs do not name themselves until they are mature. They are given childhood names that match their personalities or qualities until they are old enough to select their own designations. When they reach that stage of maturity they also undergo upgrades and alterations according to what their skills are. For some, warriors, medics or scholars."

"So… you wouldn't even know them if you ran into them again?"

Ironhide smiled a little at that. "Perhaps or perhaps not. Sometimes the residual resonance of the spark bond between creators and offspring exists and ages later the unit can be re-united. I know of several units who resonate in such a way. I myself have never felt such a resonance however, therefore I cannot tell if I have ever crossed paths with any of those whom I and my mate sparked life. It is possible I have, or that their functions never co-incided with our own, as we were both warriors."

"So… What was… uh…" Sam wrinkled his nose.

"Chromia." Ironhide supplied with a small smirk. "Her name is Chromia."

"What's she like?"

The smile that painted Ironhides' face was downright scary, and not because he was being fierce…. Because it was an expression Sam had never seen before on the mech's face. It was a mix between pride and adoration. "She is a spark after my own. You would like her, Sam. She is very much like me."

Sam slapped a hand over his face. "Oh God… No offense Ironhide, but one of you is more than enough."

The mech barked a racous laugh that made Sam jump in his seat, but smile as he realized the weapons specialist was genuinely laughing out of fondness. "You have no idea Sam… none at all." Sam smiled mildly, glad that Ironhide was amused. However, the mech seemed to pick up on the human's gloom and sombered after a little while, speaking in a gentle fatherly tone. "Sam, trust me. While it may be true I know little about human love bonds, everyone can see the bond you share with Mikaela."

Sam blinked up at him. "Really?" He said softly, a sense of awe filling him. "You can see that?"

"Whoever cannot is blind in the optics." He snorted in reply. "In truth Sam, I am not sure what Ratchet has shared with you and what he has chosen to hold back… however you are aware of the various physiological changes of your body, you should then also know that when you two are near one another I can feel the connection radiating off of you."

"Literally or figuratively." Sam asked tiredly, a bit sick of these constant metaphors.

"Literally." That got his attention. His eyes snapped up to Ironhide, startled. "Do not be so surprised, Sam. It is highly likely that you are able to forge such bonds as we do."

"But… don't you need a… a spark for that?"

"Who is to say the human equivelant is not compatable for such a link?" Ironhide smiled. "By now you should be used to the impossible becoming possible around those whom you associate. Besides your own physiology seems to be adapting, it is likely that your heart functions much like our sparks do at this point, the only difference being you have a physical form to it, ours is just energy."

"Point taken." Sam murmered softly, feeling a sudden warmth spread through him again. "So…that explains a few things." He lifted his eyes upwards, feeling a new sense of calm and wonder flow through him. "So what does that mean? Will it change how we feel about each other?"

"Change it? No. It may strengthen it if anything." Ironhide said softly. "Bonds only form when two sparks resonate true to each other. It would not form if you both did not share such feelings in the first place. Then, it takes those feelings and strengthens it, binds it, unifies it so that no matter where you are in the universe you can still feel that link if it is strong enough. Such is the nature of bonds."

"Are all of them like that?"

"With varying degrees. Bonded teammates are different than spark mates or even siblings such as the twins. Siblings share a unique bond, and those two have forms of communication that no other can fathom. But each shares a closeness compatability unique to each other."

"Do change the subject if you please." Came a suddenly cross voice from nowhere, making Sam jump in alarm. He'd forgotten the cop who had remained silent during their conversation. "I would rather avoid that particular subject of conversation, if you do not mind."

Sam grinned and patted the seat. "Sorry pal. Forgot you don't really like 'em much."

"Who does." Ironhide grumbled before his head lifted. "The others are here."

Sam sighed, feeling the growing sense of dread fill his being. "And you told them what happened by now, right?"

"I am sorry, Sam." Ironhide sighed. "But I had to report."

"I understand." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I can fend Ratchet off by taking the first shift." He volunteered, obviously trying to appear helpful to delay any wrath that he knew Sam would face.

"Thanks…" Sam said quietly. "I'm still going to have to talk to Optimus about it though."

"True, but he at least won't wrench your joints." Ironhide muttered as he pushed himself to a standing position with his good arm as the rumble of a familiar diesel engine pulled up before the warehouse. Moments later the doors slid aside and Optimus ducked within followed by said dread medic as well as a familiar bright yellow paintjob.

Sam immediately perked up. "Bee!" He didn't waste time in pushing out of the cop car and jogging up to his guardian who was already shifting forms and kneeling down in front of his friend. "You're back!" It seemed like forever since the scout had been on assignment.

"Indeed. It is good to see you again too, Sam."

"Missed ya pal." He fondly patted the yellow mech's foot and received a warble in Cybertronian in response. Bee was fond of doing that, vocalizing statements that really didn't translate well. Since Sam understood it, he got the idea of the words better if related in the mech's native tongue. He smiled warmly, glad for the presence of a familiar spark for once.

However the warm reunion was shattered in a heartbeat. Ratchet shot him A Look. "You. Later. Stay." He said tersely. Sam gulped but didn't bother arguing as the medic stomped over towards Ironhide.

"I'm in trouble. Yep."

"Definitely." Bumblebee added quietly. His optics flickered over to the cop, who had taken the interim to change form and stand upright as Optimus approached him to have a word. "Sam… what happened?"

Sam sighed and crawled into Bee's pre-offered hand as his friend lifted him to a more conversational level. "What'd Ironhide tell you?"

"Only that you had a part in the battle. He did not elaborate." However the way Bumblebee studied him, Sam knew that the mech had a fairly good idea of what had happened. Sam closed his eyes and simply did the easiest thing he could. The connection came as easy as breathing. In a matter of seconds he had shown Bee exactly what had happened, shared his feelings and expressed more than words ever would. In return he felt Bee's reassuring presence comforting him and supporting him with the positive attitude he always used. Bumblebee hadn't been surprised at the new changes, and told Sam he thought it could be a good thing. It went worlds to help him regain some of the stability he was looking for, and by the time Ratchet finished his repair on Ironhide's severed limb and was stalking back towards them, Sam felt more at ease.

Unfortunately for him, it was going to be a long ride home. "You. Ride with me back to base." Ratchet instructed despite the crestfallen look Sam shot Bee. "No exceptions. You can chat later."

Sam had the distinct impression he was in for an intensive Q&A session as he trudged towards Ratchets' waiting cab and pulled himself within. To his surprise, Ratchet's tone softened the moment he shut the door. "Sam. Ironhide informed me what happened. I am concerned for your health."

"You always are. I'm fine, just a bit tired is all." Sam sighed slouching down in his seat.

"Not your physical health. I am still able to run diagnostics on your systems and despite the obvious new changes it does not seem to be impacting you negatively. Quite the opposite I might say, but I must run in-depth scans back at base to be certain."

"Yeah figured that. So what's the problem?"

"I am more concerned for your mental health at this moment."

Sam smiled faintly. "I'm better. Ironhide and Bee cheered me up a bit."

"Really?" Ratchet sounded slightly incredulous. "The old' grump cheered you up?"

"I thought YOU were the old grump."

"The term is interchangeable considering who's using it." Ratchet predictably grumbled. "But that is beside the point. How are you coping with this new development?"

"I dunno Ratchet." Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just another thing in a multitude of compounded issues."

Ratchet chuckled at his advanced language useage. "You ARE learning."

"Shut up." Sam pouted, rubbing his face. "I slip up when I'm tired."

"You should not be ashamed of what you have become, Sam."

"I'm not ashamed." Sam said quietly. "I chose this destiny myself, I know I have to accept the consequences. I'm just not sure what's going to happen next."

"Why worry about it. You have friends and family that care about you no matter what you choose. Is that not enough?"

Sam smiled slightly and glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the bright yellow and black of the Camaro tailing them closely followed by the sleek black and white and brought up by the fancy paintjob of a rumbling Peterbuilt. "You know Ratchet… I think you're right."

"I know I am."


	41. Chapter 28: Transformations

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 28: Transformations**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Of course, Sam's mood was instantly shattered by the time Ratchet finally managed to have his way with him.

He folded his arms grumpily trying not to shiver in the chill of the open med-bay that was a few marks too cold for his taste. By now he was used to being told to strip down in front of the no-nonsense mech, but that didn't mean he was any happier about having to do it. Why couldn't scans be done with clothes ON?

"You are certain?"

"Yes, Ratchet." He replied tersely. "How many times do I have to repeat it. I'm sure."

"I find it still completely impossible. A human's physiology should not be able to perform such a transformation."

"It did it anyway. So stop complaining and find an answer."

The CMO frowned obviously irked at his back-talking patient. He wasn't USED to being talked to this way in his med-bay. Normally he'd toss a wrench to someone's cranium in order to relieve said problem, however it was clear he still had Sam's safety in mind which is why he hadn't done this yet. Still, it clearly frustrated him that he couldn't come up with an answer. "Very well, let us look at the diagnostics once more."

"Fine, let's do that." Sam pushed a hand to his forehead. His head was pounding. All he wanted to do was go find a quiet place to sleep. "We know that my bones are metal, I heal fast, can zap things, and my arm can turn into a cannon. What, I'm going to have to pick an alt form next?" As cranky as he sounded in the sarcastic wit he threw at the medic, Sam still was a bit overwhelmed by this whole thing. How much worse WAS it going to get?

"At this point I surmise we are jumping steps. Let me start at the base level and work up." Ratchet suggested, pulling the diagnostics up onto the screen. "From my scans, it seems that the integration has been completed in your systems."

"No more surprises then?"

"I cannot promise that. By integration I mean that your physiology reads as a combined unit." The CMO glanced down to the human who was staring intently at the screen himself, as if he could understand the readouts which was entirely possible at this point. "The combining process is complete. Your physiology reads as a completely bonded organic metal alloy."

"Organic metal?"

"Yes." Ratchet turned with a sigh to stare down at Sam who had lost some of his ornery attitude to simply stare with curiosity at the medic. "I realize how contradictory that sounds, however established theory is obviously being challenged here. I can detect a DNA sequence imbedded within the individual molecules that make up the metal in your body. It is now evident not only in your structure, but in your exodermal make-up as well."

"So… my skin, hair, stuff like that is really made up of the same thing?" Sam said slowly, reaching up and picking a piece of hair off his head without flinching, staring at the innocent strand of cellulite as if accusing it of cheating.

"On the molecular level, yes." Ratchet sighed, leaning closer to do a scan of the piece of hair. "Once separated from your body, it appears that the item becomes dormant and lacking any physical energy signature. Attempt to break it."

Sam blinked up at Ratchet and then reached out with his other hand and grasped the other half of the strand of short hair in his finger and moved it down, expecting it to bend and flux as any normal strand of hair would.

It snapped in two.

"Dude." He said simply, staring at the two halves, which were now clearly hardened and brittle. He moved a hand through his hair baffled. "How is that… Never mind, I think I'd rather not know."

"It's simple, actually." Ratchet explained, taking both pieces of the tiny snapped hair sample and depositing it on his lab table. "Your body is now not only organic fluids, but liquid metal. This is what enables you to keep your physiology, and to not seize up into a statue." He smirked at Sam's frown, but sobered quickly knowing that this was no laughing matter. "While charged with energy particles that the Allspark powers your body with, the material is completely liquid and fused with your body, moving as you need it to. When separated it becomes 'dead' and useless. Since it is now 50 percent metallic alloy, it hardens upon separation and becomes nothing more than any other brittle alloy."

"So…" Sam frowned. "If say something really bad happens and I lose an arm…."

"I cannot speculate, Sam." Ratchet shook his head. "It might be irreparable damage, or if you re-unite the limb it might be re-fused and energized once more. However I would recommend you do not attempt to test your limits in this regard. From your description of what happened and my analysis of your body's chemistry, it appears that this is a will-driven force. You must demand such changes of your body, it won't simply happen on it's own. It requires your thought to make it happen."

Sam relaxed a little, letting out a small breath of air. He hadn't even realized how tense he'd been until he heard that bit of information. "So I won't randomly just turn into an Autobot and start sprouting weird body parts on my own?"

"Not likely. What you did on the battlefield is a complete demonstration of what you will be capable of, in my opinion." The medic replied thoughtfully. "As the Allspark was a powerful entity, it also makes sense that it would continue to be such an object, only this time instead of outside control, it is you who commands it's power. It will listen to your will, change you as you demand of it."

Sam lifted his eyes slowly as a thought occurred to him. "As I want it to… So then it could be possible…" He froze as an old distant dream-like memory spun around in his head. He might have been mistaken after all...

"It might be." Ratchet agreed softly. His optics studied Sam closely. "The Allspark requires a will to operate it. You are that will now. You also can be manipulated by those who have a connection to the Allspark, but at your discretion. I believe you can deny them access to your power if you wished to do so. But this is something we must test out in order to keep you safe."

Sam's face darkened. "Yeah… I can see why that would be a problem."

"While Megatron is gone, it is not beyond his other faction members to attempt to manipulate you into doing something you might not wish to, by coercion or other… means." Ratchet said in a warning voice. "You know well what was done to others."

"Yeah." Sam said darkly. He knew all too well. "So that's something I'll have to work on then. But what does this really mean for me, Ratchet?" He looked up, brown eyes suddenly firm and determined. "Lay it out for me. Everything."

Ratchet sighed and leaned onto the table in order to be more at eye level with his patient. "Everything, Sam? Are you certain you wish to hear all my speculations?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." Sam said firmly. "No more surprises. I want everything we know."

"Very well then." Ratchet sighed again, though this time Sam detected a sense of weight on the medic's shoulders. "But I cannot guarantee you will like the results."

Sam smiled faintly. "I know. Go on."

Ratchet stared at him evenly for a moment, then nodded once. "Optimus has gone over the history of the Allspark in connection to our race. Where it was found, when it was found, and what has been done with it." At the human's nod, he continued. "Even we do not know of it's full potential. All we knew that it could create or destroy life, that it could charge enormous power, regenerate injuries, bring back mechs from the well of the Matrix, and it could be hidden within such a container small as the box within Optimus' chassis. It also cannot be destroyed." He smirked a little at that, glancing sideways at the human. "Despite how we attempted to do just that. No metal, no cannons, no energy can destroy it, only using it's energy in such a manner as you did in the close proximity of a spark that echo's it's resonance seemed to have any kind of dehabilitating effect on it. Still, we thought it was destroyed, you proved us wrong. It appears it CANNOT be destroyed."

Sam felt his mouth go dry at that. Suddenly, implications began to pound into every side of him all at once, and so he missed some of what Ratchet was saying. It couldn't be destroyed…? So did that mean HE couldn't be destroyed? No, surely not. If it's power could be transferred once, it likely could be again… or could it? It hadn't ever bonded with an organic life-form before, so they thought. So did that mean it could now die if he died? Or did it mean that because it protected his organic half, it was safe as it could repair damage quickly? The implications were staggering.

"Therefore, the power available would be infinite." Ratchet was saying, clearly caught up in his excitement. Sam swore he and Wheeljack were much alike when they wanted to be. "You have already healed minor injuries, brought back life that was lost, that proves you can use it's full power yourself. Now with this new development it also tells me that you will be capable of much more than we originally thought." His optics studied Sam with a glint in them. "I would love to experiment with this ability. If you could mimic Ironhides' cannon, and from the sounds of it you increased it's power output tenfold despite being a tenth it's size, then there is no telling what you could do. You could theoretically mimic our form, though it might only be a mimic and not complete process. I believe it's only a matter of trans-scanning the form you wish to take and altering your physiology to match. It's not unlike how we adapt to terrain vehicles when arriving in our protoforms. A trans-scan allows our bodies to morph parts and adapt in much the same way. While we do not have the same capabilities as the Allspark, we do have some amount of morphing to our exoskeleton. Armor is programmed to be able to fluidly change it's shape when a trans-scan is initialized, allowing our bodies to take the shape needed. Our ability to take on the colors of the vehicles is also linked into the same technology. You exhibited similar properties, only it seems to be of a more organic nature. Therefore, it is not merely a shifting of parts as it is for us. For you, your arm's form actually reshapes it's complete structure instead of folding to become a shape, you BECOME that shape. Do you see the difference?"

"Whoa, hold up." Sam said quickly, holding up his hands to stop the overly eager medic. For a moment there was complete silence. "I'm not sure I do see the difference. You mean where you guys have individual working parts, wires, cables and stuff, I don't."

"Correct." Ratchet agreed. "Your structure is still based on organic makeup. Therefore your reshaping of an arm would not reconstruct Ironhide's cannon down to a structural level, but only a functional one. Were we to examine both, yours would be a different design, as you have no need for energon lines, pumps, servos and backup coolant systems, as your energy sparks from a different and internal power source."

"Um…"

"Hm." Ratchet mused. "Think of it as such. You can create a brick two ways. One, of solid concrete, another method would be to place something within to make the brick hollow, or fill it with another substance. Both would function as a brick and do what they were built to do, but they would be composed of different substance."

"Yeah." Sam said slowly. "And one would be more fragile."

"In certain circumstances perhaps." Ratchet agreed. "If delivered a strong blow, both would shatter equally. The hollow brick would perhaps be slightly more fragile and delicate, yet both would serve their function when stacked into a wall."

Sam thought about the comparison. Sure it was a crude example, but then again it was kind of fitting to their situation. "Ok I think I get it. So what would happen if I tried to mimic something else?"

Ratchet narrowed his optics. "What exactly are you thinking?"

"Well…" Sam drawled out. "I was thinking it would be REALLY handy to have one of those cool internal communicators you guys use."

Ratchet blinked at him as if that hadn't occurred to his CPU, then smiled. "I see. You are right, it would be convenient rather than relying upon your separate communications device. However I am not sure you could permanently implement such a system for a long-term basis. However it would be interesting to attempt such a transformation of your physical body to accommodate something as small as a communications system. It would also be interesting to see how long you could maintain it consciously, and if it reverted once you stopped focusing on maintaining it."

"So that's a yes?"

"I believe so. You may require some schematics first." He studied Sam carefully. "However, before we attempt this Sam… I must question whether you are really ready for this."

Sam blinked up at him incredulously. "You ask me this NOW?"

"Well, before you were simply accepting the changes of your physiology without any severe alterations. I cannot promise there will not be complications once we begin to actually alter your physical form… that and…" He trailed off a little, staring down at him. "I realize you are concerned about some of the other potential side-effects."

Sam blinked at him. "What side-effects? So far, nothing's really stood out as 'bad' to me. I can do wicked cool things, heal fast, help others, fight back and now do this wicked cool body morphing thing. What side-effects could you POSSIBLY mean?"

If Ratchet understood the sarcasm laced through Sam's tone he didn't show it. "I am concerned how this might be affecting your mental status, and your relationships with your parental units, as well as Mikaela and Miles."

Sam's smile faded a bit. "Yeah… well I haven't told most of them yet. Mikaela especially is going to be hard to talk to. I mean, she knows most of it already but it feels like…" He trailed off slowly.

Ratchet's gaze softened a bit. "I understand why you feel this way Sam. You are afraid that these changes will come between you."

"Yeah." He said quietly. "She says they won't… but what happens when…." He swallowed hard and looked up at Ratchet with a sudden pained expression. "…just what are these changes going to mean for me long-term, Ratchet?" He swallowed again, and looked down feeling the sense of intense desperation begin to flood his heart again. He'd locked it away a lot lately, but when it came to Mikaela he felt as if everything were unraveling. "I mean…the Allspark is… old right?"

"Yes, Sam." Ratchet said softly. "Older than any of us. And as to my recollection none of our kind have essentially 'died' of old age… battle or lack of care is the only thing that takes us down." He hesitated seeing the human wasn't reacting to his words. "I realize you may not enjoy hearing this, Sam… but it is likely you will not continue to live according to a natural human life-span."

"Yeah." Sam said quietly. "I already figured that."

Ratchet didn't reply. He knew why Sam was upset. The others he knew and cared for would not join him in his lengthy life. There was little the medic could say to cheer him up in this matter. He had some theories when it came to the boy's relationship with his mate, but he wasn't prepared to voice them just yet. "I am sorry for this development you find yourself in, Sam. I wish it were not the case."

"Thanks." Sam said quietly. He tried to smile, but it came off as forced. "Can I get dressed now doc? I'm freezin' my aft off."

"Watch your language!"

"Sorry!"

* * *

"Is he watching us again?"

"Yes."

"Slag."

"Just don't look at him."

"It's hard NOT to. He WATCHES us every chance he gets!"

"It's because we watch him, aft-head."

"You're not helping."

"Frag off."

"Are you two done skulking about and ready to do some real work, or would you rather have a go at repainting my med bay?"

The two froze then uniformly turned to glare at the second most hated individual on base. The CMO just looked smug, as if he'd just caught them in the act of doing something shifty. The way their faces looked, the twins might just have been doing what he suspected. "So?" He demanded. "What will it be?"

"All right, we're going, we're going." Sideswipe replied quickly, grabbing his brother by the shoulder and pulling him after, hoping the CMO wouldn't change his mind.

The moment the two were out of sight, someone chuckled. "You enjoy that doncha." Came another familiarly irritating voice behind him, requiring the CMO to glance over his shoulder at the smaller visage of the Second Lieutenant as he approached.

"Naturally. I need SOME entertainment on this dusty rock."

Jazz just grinned, watching the colorful splashes of paint vanish into the dusty horizon. "One of these days you three are going to drive each other nuts, you know that Ratch."

"Them before me." Ratchet smirked then turned to study the scene below that the twins had been observing. Optimus was speaking with their newly revived comrade. "So."

Jazz's grin sobered a little as his gaze shifted to the black and white mech standing at attention by their leader. "It's good to have him back… still… to know what happened to him…"

"It's not something we wanted to believe." Ratchet agreed. "But believe it or not, we must face facts. And there is one fact I am quite relieved to accept: Prowl is back among us once more."

"True enough." Jazz said with a small grin. "Takes the heat off me."

"You're just glad you're not impromptu First Lieutenant anymore."

"Damn straight. I hate being in charge, you know that. He can HAVE all the responsibility he wants."

"Don't tell HIM that, Primus help us all."

Jazz laughed, and slapped Ratchet on the shoulder. "How's Ironhide? Still complaining that you're torturing him?"

"Bah. He's fine. Better than fine, actually." Ratchet snorted. "Since Sam assisted the restructure, his arm will have no loss of motor functions at all, and is better than it was before he lost it. Slag, that boy never ceases to amaze me." Ratchet's expression sobered. "He's gotten himself in deep this time though. He's pushing himself harder than he should."

"He's stronger than you give him credit for, Ratch. He may be a youngling, but he's got enough power in his pinky and the gumption to use it without fear of what it's doing to him. He's a soldier. He may not have known it before he ran into us, but he sure enough figured it out by now. You need to stop trying to protect him and just let what will happen, happen. The Allspark knows what it's doing. It's time you trusted it."

Ratchet shot a glare over at Jazz, frowning. "You're an insufferable know-it-all since you came back from the dead, you realize that."

Jazz grinned at him. "Look man, I just call it as I see it. I told you, I don't remember a thing about bein' dead. I just always got more common sense than you."

Ratchet growled and aimed a swat at the smaller mech who nimbly dodged it without a second thought. "As I said, insufferable know-it-all."

* * *

Optimus Prime regarded the soldier standing before him with a calm expression, but for those who knew him best, the distinct sparkle in his optics betrayed his glee. The moment he had seen the mech's new visage, he had known his identity before Sam's report. He had been a bit alarmed after he got the notification that the three were incoming and with injuries. Considering that most of his troops had been too far away to join the battle in time, he was just glad everyone was in one piece… well, kind of. Ironhide had been extremely grumpy until Ratchet had repaired him enough to allow transformation.

And there had been no trace as to WHY they had attacked Ironhide. The weapons specialist had assured him he'd simply been passing through the city with no desire for conflict at the time. They had apparently selected him to have some fun with, though why Optimus couldn't say. The Seekers weren't USUALLY suicidal. While Starscream was known for being a moron at times, he was smarter than to risk attacking Ironhide just with the three of them especially in a public place.

At least Ironhide hadn't let them escape unscathed.

So when Optimus finally had a chance to speak privately with their recently revived comrade he recognized strong similarities both to the former soul he had been, as well as hints at the other. "Reporting, sir." Prowl replied in a calm even voice, saluting smartly.

"Proceed."

He gave his report without a hitch, explaining in detail what had happened during the battle. Optimus listened patiently, but found nothing in his report that would indicate what the Seekers had been up to. It seemed out of place…

"Sir, if I might make an extrapolation." Optimus blinked but nodded to the tactician. "This was a distraction."

"What?" if he'd been expecting anything, it hadn't been that. "How do you surmise that?"

"I studied the patterns of attack that we have kept record of the other day." Prowl explained thoughtfully. "This does not fit the pattern, and I believe I know why." His optics lifted to stare evenly at the leader. "Were there any other locations hit recently?"

"None in the last month."

"Are you certain sir? Have you checked the news today?"

Optimus frowned and immediately tapped into the most reliable newslink he'd discovered through the world wide web. He was therefore quite surprised to see a headline not focused on Mission City, but on San Francisco. There had been a brutal attack there in the Hayward area, and rumors of a construction accident. Apparently there were ten men dead by a fleet of vehicles which then had gone missing from a building site. Authorities weren't speculating. "Are you saying that there are others we don't know about?"

"Is it not likely? We cannot watch the skies across the globe, and the human's military network does have holes our technology can slip through. All it takes is a mech with brains to hack their systems long enough to permit a small group entry, scan local camouflage and infiltrate society without anyone knowing. For all we know they may have been here some time, but their confidence is making them sloppy." His optics lit up and displayed a map on the ground between the two of them, as he pointed out each of the glowing dots. "These represent the points struck by our enemy. The reason you have not found a pattern in their methods is more simple than you realize. Up until now you have been focusing your analysis based on military, scientific or resources. You believed they had needs for the facilities, or to take out threats. I believe this extrapolation is wrong, sir."

Optimus lifted his gaze thoughtfully regarding him. "What is your assumption?"

"Geological weaknesses, sir."

Optimus felt a thrill of fear ripple down his processor. "Geological?"

"Each point they have attacked has been at a single focal point of geological importance. The Geysers are located on an active fault line. As is Hayward…" The points began to light up on his holographic representation, as a line drew between them all, connecting to form a familiar pattern that any grade-school student would know. "They are attacking stress points in the Earth's very crust, sir. The military has been so focused on trying to stop deaths that they haven't run subterranean tests. When the blue Seeker ambushed Ironhide and Sam, I watched him. He didn't use his missile, sir, a weapon which would have had far greater impact at such a short detonation point. The missile launcher was undamaged, yet he did not use it. This leads me to believe it may have been altered. I captured schematics before we left, Ratchet can no doubt analyze the findings to discover if my hunch is correct. However, I believe this is the key we have been missing. They are not targeting military or even civilian targets… it just so happens many of these targets are guarded or used by such entities. They are setting a trap. To what end I cannot guess, but I can guarantee you sir, it will not be good."

Optimus was silent as he absorbed this data. It made sense, and at this point he knew enough to trust the mech who stood before him. Memory or no, his identity was now confirmed by not only himself, but Sam as well. Therefore this data was irrefutable. "Do you have any idea as to why they are targeting geological sites?"

"I cannot speculate that yet, sir." Was the terse response, indicating Prowl was frustrated that he had not come up with an answer. "I will continue to analyze their tactics to understand their reasoning."

"I have faith in your abilities my friend." Optimus said firmly with a warm smile as he clasped one hand on his shoulder. "It is good to have you return to our ranks. I only wish you had your experiences to bring back with you."

"I'm sure others will enlighten me." Prowl sighed. "I have already heard an earful more than I wish to." His optics slid sideways towards the ridge where the twins had been watching earlier.

"They always enjoyed taunting you. Do me a favor this time." Optimus said with a small chuckle.

"Sir?"

"Don't let them rile you up so much."

"I can't promise that, sir."


	42. Chapter 29: Friends

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 29: Friends  
**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"Frag frag frag… someone GET ME A CLAMP!" There was a loud clatter as the offending object was dropped en-route to it's owner. "MORON! Useless... get out! OUT!" The room quickly emptied. It was very rare indeed to see such a sight.

Normally Decepticons ran TOWARDS the yelling, not away.

Hook stared down at the figure laying sprawled on his oversized table. It was very rare indeed that he had one of THEM in here. They were the elite. Sure, he'd fixed broken wings, scored armor and the occasional foul temper to boot, but a life-threatening situation was different.

He could see his SPARK for Primus' sake.

Thundercracker had been brought back to their makeshift base by his two wing mates barely alive. He was amazingly still conscious, and perhaps that was the only thing that had kept him from expiring right there. He was also very fortunate that all of his Energon lines had been fused shut by the blast he'd taken straight to the chest. Had that not happened he would have died instantly. But that still didn't mean he was out of danger. Vital Energon pumps had been blocked which had effectively shut off the flow to the rest of his body. If he didn't patch them now then it might be too late.

His hand shook slightly as he drove a clamp into one of the frayed lines and began to saw off the soldered end so he could patch a jump. The fact that his hand shook betrayed how unnerved the Constructicon was.

He'd never SEEN damage like this before.

Every touch left sparkling rivets of energy zapping up his arm, as if the Seeker had been charged with super conductive energy of some sort. It sent vibrant thrills through is own frame and he watched as each pulse seemed to flicker in tune with the Seeker's spark.

Allspark energy. He would recognize that anywhere. Being a medic, he had to know what it looked like. However, he was also distinctly under the impression that the Allspark had been destroyed. Starscream had explicitly stated that it was out of the picture.

Obviously their illustrious leader had been mistaken. Big surprise there.

Speaking of which… Hook didn't even cringe when the door opened behind him. It was uncharacteristically quiet of their newly appointed leader not to slam something, however this was not an ordinary situation. "How is he?" Was the quiet question, unusually low toned and not at all the high-pitched screeching Starscream normally used. That told Hook one thing. He was worried. Starscream, the callous power-hungry freak of nature who cared nothing about anyone but himself… was worried about someone else. It showed how concerned he was that he hadn't even brought up the obvious injury to his own wing, scorched with blast marks that told him Autobots were getting better at aiming skywards.

"Not good, but not terribly bad either. He was lucky. Whatever he was hit with did plenty of damage but also cauterized half the wounds immediately so he didn't lose Energon. I'll be able to repair him once I get a jump so his systems start circulating again. So out of my way until I'm done here." To his surprise, Starscream didn't come back with a snappy reply nor get in his way, but simply stood in the corner watching as he quickly jumped the lines and then unclamped them. Blue liquid began to circulate through the clear tubing and a quick scan told him that there were no leaks. The damage was still there, but at least he was stable now. He relaxed a bit before turning to face his commander. Starscream's blood red optics were focused down on his unmoving comrade but flicked up to meet his own once he'd given him his full attention. It was unnerving in a way, Hook thought as he watched the Seeker's pose. He resembled the name which his alt-mode used: Raptor. Everything he and his wing mates did was swift, agile and fast like a bird, even their movements. The fact that Thundercracker hadn't been able to avoid this blast spoke miles from whence it came. "He's stable for now. I'll be able to patch him up good as new in a day or so with the parts I have. The rest is up to his repair systems, so I'd recommend light duty for a few weeks."

"We don't have a few weeks." Came the flat answer. "Will he be able to fly tomorrow?"

"Yes, but…"

"Then make it happen." The answer was curt and sharp, optics bearing down on him burning with a ferocity that Hook had never seen in the Air Commander before. Sure, he was brutal and hot tempered at best, but this was pure fury, anger, and hatred. It confused him a bit, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask his leader about it. He DID however want to know one thing, so as Starscream turned to leave he stopped him with a hand. "Starscream…"

"LORD Starscream…"

_Whatever._ "…why did you lie to us about this?" Bright red optics whipped around to burn into him intensely. "About the Allspark. I'm not stupid, I know its work when I see it."

Red optics narrowed at him but no scathing words or sharp blows came from the Seeker. Instead the optics slid over to Thundercracker then back to him. "I didn't realize it would become this formidable."

"So you did know the Allspark survived."

"In a way. Barricade suspected something of it transferred into the Autobot's pet human. I got that information from Soundwave. But these details clearly were overlooked." His eyes narrowed. "When I speak to that treacherous scum of a communications officer…" His growl lowered to a threatening snarl at his lips. "He will regret withholding information dearly."

Hook frowned but let his commander go. So Starscream hadn't known. And stranger yet he'd ADMITTED IT to him.

Seekers were odd creatures, Hook thought with a shake of his head. Brutal deadly soldiers who still had sparks buried somewhere under their re-enforced chassis. They hid it well.

"SOUNDWAVE!!"

_Ok! Time to get working_, Hook hurriedly thought as the bellow belayed all his previous thoughts.

The Decepticon Communications Officer regarded the enraged Commander with the usual calm placid face he always wore behind his mask and visor. At his side Ravage prowled angrily never taking his eyes off of the angry Seeker. Where the other drones were, one could only guess.

"WHY did you not inform me of that worm's ability to USE the Allspark?!"

Soundwave blinked behind his visor, not that Starscream could see it. "Information not provided."

"You mean to tell me you didn't KNOW?"

"Affirmative."

"Now why do I find that hard to believe. Do you even REALIZE what this means?! I risked everything with this plan and now it could be RUINED!"

Soundwave was silent, studying the Seeker as he slammed his fist into the wall of the roughly hewn cave they had taken over and converted for their use. It was a deep network of tunnels that the Constructicons had been more than happy to hew out of the empty Nevada desert. It was cleverly concealed, and virtually right under the Autobot's noses, only a few hundred miles away, and they had no clue at all. It was very handy having someone around with the ability to mask their signatures from the Autobots. However, nothing could quite mask the wheels turning in Soundwaves' head at this newest development. Fortunately Starscream was too obsessed with his latest rant to notice. "If I had known about this I never would have sent Barricade back!" his optics flashed over to Soundwave sharply. "You have at least followed my instructions up until now?"

"Affirmative. All bombs in place. Rumble prepared. Operation ready."

"Good." Starscream muttered. "At least SOMETHING is going right." His optics slid over to the other jet lounging nearby, staying oddly silent. At the glance Skywarp lifted his optics and shot his leader a cold glance then returned to staring at the floor distractedly. "We will begin to execute the plan tomorrow once Thundercracker is fit for duty."

"Tomorrow? But…" Skywarp butted in with obvious surprise. "We haven't finished rebuilding everyone yet… Only Blackout and Brawl are nearly rebuilt."

"The rest can wait."

"But…"

"I SAID it can WAIT." Starscream's glare was deadly on his wing mate, making the black and violet jet cringe. "Right now we have to move before that human insect is able to control even more power than he displayed today. If we wait too long, the Autobots will TEACH him how to use that power, and then it will be too late. We move tomorrow." He turned sharply to stare at Soundwave. For a moment no one said a word, then in silence the Communications Officer turned and gave a tonal warble. Ravage snarled low, turned and jumped onto his master's back, compacting and merging into part of the armor on his backside as the mech stomped out of the cave.

"The Autobots have gone far too long believing that they are safe." Starscream said in a lower more thoughtful voice. "They have not suspected anything yet… they are incredibly stupid. THIS time our plan will be successful."

Skywarp sighed and rolled his optics skywards as his commander began the usual routine of maniacal laughter. "Yeah…right…" He muttered quietly, shooting a look towards the medical ward where their comrade's life still hung in balance. "It had better be."

* * *

Sam woke up with a start, drenched with a cold sweat. For the longest moment all he could think about was a deep dark feeling of foreboding, terror gripping his pounding heart as he clutched the rough blanket tightly to his chest. The world around him seemed thick and dense like water, and his ears echoed dully with the pulse of his heart, drowning out all else.

He didn't know why he had woken up in such a panic, his mind couldn't seem to recall the precise reason… but he was absolute terrified.

Slowly, he rubbed his face, feeling shaky as his cold fingers touched a sweaty forehead. Since he had, according to Ratchet, finished his metamorphosis he hadn't felt ill, sick or tired much at all. Therefore this shaky nervousness worried him.

Why was he so frightened?

He slid his legs out from under the rough military blanket and padded softly in bare feet over to the bathroom across the hall. No one else was around, which didn't surprise him. The 'A-Team', Lennox's amusing name for his new little squad, were out doing what they had been doing the past several months: keeping an eye out for the Decepticons. After the last battle Sam had simply decided it was best to crash here rather than make his way home and have to explain everything to his folks. He'd enough on his plate lately that he didn't really want to focus on adding more 'weirdness' to his parents lives. They had enough to worry about as it was.

He leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on his face, then glanced up at his reflection tiredly. He looked like slag. Since his change, he hadn't looked bad, in fact he'd been healthy and tip-top shape. But the bags under his eyes belayed the truth. His eyes were slightly bloodshot beneath the dark bags, and he looked paler than normal. Ratchet was going to lecture him about 'not getting a proper recharge'. Yeah right… it was no wonder he felt so crappy, with everything that was going on lately. He sighed and ran his face over the rough towel, feeling a little more awake but still exhausted. Come to think of it, he hadn't been sleeping well for a while now… since he woke up from his 'coma', now that he thought about it. Maybe it was the Allspark being picky, who knew… He should probably ask Ratchet if it was safe to take some sleeping pills, or if he had a better alternative, just to get some rest.

Sam changed clothing and then laced up his boots before making his way down the hall. He was a bit surprised to see a familiar neon green label sitting idly at the end of the hallway. "Hey D-man." There was a low chitter as eyes unfolded from the dormant Mountain Dew vending machine. "Miles here?" There was a chittering response of garbled Cybertronian. Over the last few weeks Sam had gotten a bit more used to understanding the Earth bot's dialect. It was in Cybertronian, but had English grammatical structure which made it very very odd. But while he might not understand everything said, he got the gist of it. "Thanks." A soda dumped out of the dispenser and an arm offered it to him. Sam grinned and took it, saluting the green mech as he wandered into the living room.

Sure enough Miles was lounging back on one of the couches yelling ecstatically at the screen. "Go! Go! Go! Come ON man!"

Sam blinked and then did a double take. Ok, so he'd seen many odd things since his time with the Autobots… but this took the cake.

Somehow, someway, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had managed to squeeze their bright colorful forms into the humans' rec room, probably through some clever maneuvering on their part through the window. Both were crouched on either side of the television in an odd posture, and they were avidly playing Dance Dance Revolution…

With their hands.

It wasn't so much of a stretch when you thought about it. Obviously they were too big to actually DANCE on the pads… thus their fingers did the dancing as they scowled intently at the screen, both working at a blurred pace to one of the most difficult songs available, with Miles cheering them both on ecstatically.

It was quite the show.

Sam sipped the soda calmly watching as both mechs were practically nose to nose with the screen, optics scanning and taking in the lines of arrows faster than any human eye could possibly do, and to boot they were using the amped up super modes available, such as faster speed, delayed pulsing and invisible mode.

All this Jazz was taking in with a wide grin on his face. A sideways glance at the human shared a silent chuckle at the amusing scene. "You've gotta be kidding me." Sam murmured as Jazz crouched down to whisper at his level. "How long have they been at it?"

"All night, man." The saboteur just grinned wider. "I think they're hard wired into that game…"

There was a tremendous whoop followed by a loud SMACK that made the two stare back at the twins. Sideswipe had obviously won, as he'd jumped up suddenly forgetting the low ceiling.

There was now a skylight in the roof.

"Ow… slaggit…" Sideswipe squinted up at the roof rubbing his head where a nice scrape of gray had spoiled his sleek glossy helmet. That hadn't seemed to stop his grin however. "You owe me five cubes, bro!"

"Frag you." Came the sullen response, obviously Sunstreaker was a sore loser.

Miles laughed out loud, slapping his knee. "Man that was so COOL! You guys ROCK!"

"Don't we know it!"

Sam shook his head only to notice a small figure staggering quickly away from the ecstatic game geeks. The poor little X-bot looked positively haggard, it's normally bright green optics dull as it scampered away from the insanity that had held it prisoner all night. Seeing the two onlookers it scrambled quickly towards Sam and skittered up his leg to latch onto his back defensively chittering a long stream of protests.

"Sorry pal, they played rough didn't they?" Sam grinned patting it's head fondly. "Poor guy… bet you could do for a long rest."

"No doubt." Jazz chuckled.

"Sam!" Miles had just noticed his friends' arrival and promptly vaulted over the couch jogging over towards him. "Hey, you're up! Dude, what's wrong with you? You look like crap."

"Eh not sleeping well, no big deal." He replied with a casual wave of his hand. "I miss anything while I was out?" He glanced up at the silver mech still crouching near him.

"Nah, all's chill." Jazz replied with a small shake of his head. "Got me a bit worried though… not like the 'cons to stay quiet long."

"Oh, by the way…" Miles trailed off uncertainly. "Your folks were um…"

"Pissed?"

"Just a bit. They keep tellin' me to tell you that skipping school is NOT ok… even if you're hanging out with giant alien robots all day, you 'still need your education young man'!" Miles finished with an eerily accurate representation of Judy Witwicky. He grinned awkwardly. "Like that's gonna happen, right?"

Sam smiled thinly, feeling suddenly tired again. "Yeah… I gotta talk to them about that. Is Mikaela around?"

"Yeah, she was with that med dude I think."

"Right… well I'd better go find her." But just at that moment, a loud wail of a siren began to blast through the barracks, making both humans jump. "What the…?"

"Alarm." Jazz stated unnecessarily. "Perimeter breech by the sound of it. Come on." Then Sam got his answer on how the three mechs had managed to fit into the small barracks room. Jazz did the most amazing contortion as he opened the small door, and then did a half-transformation into his car form, parts twisting and morphing as he smoothly slid out of the room by doing a tetris-like move in order to fit through the door. By the time the two humans could wrap their heads around how he was able to shift parts like that, he was back in mech form waiting for them outside. "Well? You comin'?"

Sam and Miles exchanged glances but then jogged after the silver mech, loud footsteps pounding on the ground behind them as the twins did the same twisting move Jazz had done to get out of the room and followed them. Several others both in mech and alt mode were making their way to the control chamber and met them as they all squeezed inside. Optimus stood tall by the computer displays rigged together through some of Wheeljacks' less exploding inventions. "What is it Prime?" Prowl was already at his side staring at the screens warily. "An intruder?"

"It appears we have an unexpected guest."

"Dude… is that who I think it is?!" All optics slid down to the energetic Miles who was staring slack-jawed at the monitor. He flushed abruptly when he realized EVERYONE was watching him. "Um…" He threw a pleading look at Sam.

One glance at the monitor showed him who it was… but he still didn't believe it. "Uh… yeah…" Sam replied slowly. "But what's he doing here?"

"Maybe he followed someone?"

"Might I inquire to whom you are referring…?" Prowl was staring intently at them with that eerily critical gaze that sent shivers down Sam's spine.

"Oh slag, the twins." Ironhide swore. Everyone stared at the monitor in time to see Sunny and Sides in their alt forms screech into a blocking formation in front of their visitor, effectively halting the vehicle's progress.

"Hey friend! Nice to see you again!"

"Good. He can finish polishing the scratch job he did on my paint!"

The only response that could be heard emanating from the speakers was a low whimper. "Oh shitshitshit… Lucifer's Lamborghini's!"

If Trent DeMarco could have looked any paler, he would have blended in with the desert sand.


	43. Chapter 30: Bonds

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 30: Bonds**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

If it had been any other situation, Miles and Sam would have been rolling on the floor in hysterics at the look on Trent's face when the twins cut him off.

Heck, they still wanted to do it.

The only thing that kept them from executing said hysterics was the realization that A: Trent DeMarco had somehow found his way onto their base despite stringent security measures, B: he was apparently terrified of the Twins which was unusual (not that he was terrified, that he knew who they were) and C: now they were going to have to explain things to a sworn enemy.

There was no way he was here out of coincidence.

"What's going on?" Mikaela was only seconds behind the realization that Trent had stumbled onto their private sanctuary, and it only took her half a second more to realize that. "Oh God…. What's HE doing here?!"

"Will someone explain who this human is?" Prowl demanded.

"It's Trent, Mikaela's ex… he's a jerk." Sam offered helpfully.

"I set we let the twins take care of him. He seems to know them anyway."

"Know them?" Mikaela was asking. "Wait… how is that possible?"

There was an ominous silence.

"Oh slag."

There was almost a complete stampede towards the door as Ironhide, Prowl and Cliffjumper all bolted for the exit, obviously realizing at the same time that if this human knew the two Lambos by sight, it couldn't be a good thing.

"Wait you three." Optimus' voice rang out solidly. "Do not jump to conclusions. Sam, Mikaela, Miles." The three humans looked up at the Autobot's commander. "As you are familiar with this boy, could you please go out there and ensure that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker do not do anything…rash."

"Damage control you mean." Muttered Ironhide in a sullen voice.

"I would prefer not to assume this human is aware of our existence unless he provides proof. Let's just play it safe."

The three humans exchanged looks, but in the end they were escorted out of the control room up the ramp to the entrance to the base by an always helpful Bumblebee. "Dude, how do you think he knows about the twins?" Miles was quick to ask. "I haven't seen head or tails of that guy since last year."

"I spoke to him briefly after breaking up with him." Mikaela murmured thoughtfully. "He didn't really act out of the ordinary, though he WAS nicer than usual… He hasn't bothered me all year, or his jock pals."

"Now THAT'S weird."

She shrugged a bit. "I hadn't given it much thought, really. I mean, I've been a bit pre-occupied." She grinned widely and leaned onto Sam's arm, giving him a light squeeze on his bicep as she leaned into him.

Sam flushed a bit, especially once Miles made a gagging sound from the back seat. "Oh can it will ya?"

Bumblebee just chuckled softly.

When they approached the three vehicles parked near the entrance, it was increasingly obvious that the twins were enjoying torturing Trent. The jock was sitting white-knuckled at the wheel of his blue H3, staring straight ahead with a locked jaw, trying his best to ignore the two colorful sports cars literally prowling around him doing circles in the dust. Sweat rolled down his forehead and a vein was throbbing at his temple madly. When the Camaro rolled up and stopped in front of them, the two Lamborghinis stopped their taunting pacing around him and merely thrummed their engines loudly, laughing.

"They're like pit bulls." Muttered Sam. "Playing with their food."

"He deserves it."

"Lay off, he's not that bad."

"Well, go find out what he wants." Miles prodded Sam's arm.

"Nuh uh. You go, Mik."

"Me?" She scowled at them both, only to find the two boys staring at her with pleading expressions. She sighed. "Fine, cowards…" She opened Bumblebee's door and slid out, strolling directly towards the H3.

Trent was definitely behaving odd, as he only glanced at her when she leaned in his window casually. "So." She said with a pleasant smile. "What brings you all the way out here, Trent?"

The jock's throat tightened visibly as he swallowed hard, obviously highly agitated and nervous. His voice sounded hoarse and scratchy. "Please tell me you're here to help."

"Help?" She blinked at him, puzzled.

"Tell them to LEAVE me ALONE!"

Mikaela raised her eyebrows, blue eyes sliding to the two Lamborghini's, who merely revved their engines in loud laughter. Her eyes slipped back to lock on Trent's wide bloodshot ones, aware for the first time that he looked like crap. She was at a bit of a loss as for what to say. Obviously he was referring to the twins… but did he really KNOW about them? "I thought you liked hot cars."

"Not when they're STALKING me. Now PLEASE get them away from me!"

Mikaela felt a smile trying to tug at her lips, but there was something oddly pathetic about the light note of panic in Trent's voice. She glanced over at the two and waved a hand. Obviously Trent knew enough to know they were intelligent. "Ok guys, you've had your fun… leave the poor guy alone."

The twins revved their engines but slid back a little. She knew they were enjoying this. She turned back to the rigid Trent who was still staring straight ahead with a clenched jaw. "Can I go now?" was the low whimper that escaped from the jock's voice, so low Mikaela almost missed it. "I've done what you asked."

"But we're just starting to have fun, tiger." Came a smooth purring voice from none other than the radio portion of the blue H3 that Trent currently sat in.

Mikaela blinked. _Oh boy._

There was movement on all sides immediately. From behind the hummer the twins were already changing forms, towering just short of scraping their heads on the ceiling, both staring with wide grins at the H3. "I KNEW IT!" Sideswipe insisted, all pretense dropped. "See Sunny, what did I tell you! I knew my scanners weren't glitched."

Sunstreaker squinted down at the hummer curiously. "Yeah… but it's gotta have one pit of a stealth system to have blocked all signals after you noticed it, bro."

On the other side of the paralyzed Trent, Sam and Miles had wisely vacated Bumblebee's interior and were backing up for the yellow bot to make the change. Once he finished he was on one knee, battle mask down, cannon ready just in case. Oddly enough, Trent didn't look the least bit phased, though his eyes did widen very slightly as his nose flared, breath coming quicker. "Identify yourself." Bumblebee stated firmly, down to business.

"Relax, kid." Purred the H3. "If I were a Decepticon I would not have brought this cute little human along now would I?"

_Cute?_ Miles and Sam snickered, which earned them a glare from Trent, breaking him out of his semi-stupor. However, the Hummer's door slid open and the seat belt suddenly retracted. Trent blinked a moment before scrambling out faster than a cat being chased by a dog, pushing himself against the wall of the tunnel with a loud exhale of breath, rubbing his neck slightly where a red mark showed how tightly the belt had obviously been keeping him restrained. No wonder he'd sat so still…

However their attention was drawn back to the focus of the chaos as the newcomer began to shift forms. Pieces and parts contorted and slid into place to form the familiar shape of a mech who finished it's transformation kneeling in a crouched position on the ground, bright blue optics shining fiercely up at the ever alert scout who still had his plasma cannon trained directly on it. For a moment, no one moved. Optics studied optics as all of them weighed each other. Then abruptly the silence was shattered by an alarming loud screech of metal on stone from down the tunnel.

Surprised, everyone's attention swiveled to focus on a very distraught Ironhide who had frozen in his place, half the others already hot on his trail coming up the tunnel. Sam blinked. There was something wrong with this picture.

Oh yeah… Ironhide's cannons were offline.

The black mech was standing there like a shell-shocked idiot, staring at the blue mech as if he'd suddenly seen Megatron rise back from the dead. It was a very odd expression, something twisted between terror and shock.

"Excuse me." The blue mech said calmly straightening. "Would you mind moving out of the way Bumblebee, dear?"

The scout blinked and then shifted his gaze back over his shoulder, aware the others were there. Reluctantly he lowered his cannon and took a step to the side, visor retracting to show the puzzlement obvious on his facial plates as the blue mech slowly began to stride towards the startled Ironhide.

It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment the two were standing facing each other, the next the blue mech had pounced in a streak of silver and cyan. Ironhide let out a surprised bellow, and then the ground trembled with a mighty boom as he fell down flat on his back, pinned by a mech half his size and bulk. One arm had transformed into a narrow beam cannon aimed straight down at his chest, glowing with a deadly gleam of fusion energy, the other hand had a wicked looking dagger like blade aimed directly at his exposed neck.

The humans were staring slack-jawed. This mech had just taken down their trigger-happy gun freak in a second! The others standing behind Ironhide seemed just as surprised, several weapons were already out, but not initialized, as it was obvious the blue mech could take down Ironhide before anyone could get off a shot.

No one spoke for the longest time. Then the blue mech spoke again in that soft quiet voice, not at all seeming ruffled or angry. "You're losing your touch."

"Uh…" Oh yes, that was a very intelligent response from Ironhide.

"Chromia?" Optimus' deep voice rang out through the tight tunnel and the others made way for his tall stooped frame to fit in the front of their ranks.

To their surprise, the blue mech slid off of Ironhide in one elegant twist, coming to stand at attention directly before the Autobot Commander. "Optimus Prime, sir. It is good to see you functioning."

"Likewise."

Sam's brain seemed to finally click on. "Wait…" He blurted out. "Chromia? As in Ironhide's mate?!"

Miles and Mikaela both stared at him in surprise, while Optimus and the newcomer both glanced down at him with wry smiles. It was then that Miles put his metaphorical foot in his mouth. "You mean that's a GIRL robot?! How is that even possible!?"

There was a rough sigh from Ironhide followed by a stream of muttering in Cybertronian that Sam managed to catch. His ears turned pink at the meaning.

"Chromia, it does my spark well to see you. Can I take this to mean that the others of your squad are near?" Optimus was asking, ignoring Miles' outburst.

"You can. I was sent down ahead of time to scout the situation and relay back to the others. I took advisement of the situation and given the escalation of events lately it was determined that it was time we re-joined your forces."

"How many?"

"Five, sir."

"Primus." Came a dreamy sigh from behind them, and the four humans all glanced back to see Sideswipe grinning ear to ear. "Five femmes?! Slag, Sunny we'd better get cleaned up!"

"So… she's a girl robot?!" Miles asked again, leaning forward to whisper in Sam's ear. "This is SO kinky." Pause. "Do robots even HAVE sex?"

It had been a unique reunion to say the least. Chromia herself reminded Sam so much of Ironhide that it was scary. The only difference was that she had this lethal method of sounding perfectly calm and comfortable, but her words could be just as deadly. The way she'd taken down her mate also spoke worlds for her skills. Firepower she might not have matched him in, but it was clear she had skill.

Ironhide in short, was completely whipped.

They had taken an extended break, during which Sam, Miles and Mikaela had tried to talk to Trent about what had happened. From what the jock told them he'd known about Chromia and the Twins for some time. There were few times that the three could ever bring it in their hearts to actually pity the guy, given their past history. This was one of those times. Still, the image of Trent pissing himself silly because Sunstreaker yelled at him for scratching his paint job was an image that would NEVER leave their heads. Sideswipe had even been so kind as to show them the recording he'd made of the event.

Miles swore it would become his screensaver.

Oddly enough, Trent wasn't freaking out as much as they all had thought he might, but then given his run-in with the twins initially they supposed he'd had some time to adjust to the reality that the cars who had tortured him obviously were not NORMAL. Big giant alien robots took some getting used to, but at least he had an explanation now. However, he had a distinctly different take on the whole situation from the rest of them. He wanted nothing to do with this at all. In fact, he said firmly that he planned to go to college back east and if he never saw a giant alien robot or talking car again it would be too soon.

Thus, it made things easier as the three of them watched the silent desert sky from their perch on Bumblebee's hand, waiting for the arrival of Chromia's squad with the others. "Sam?"

He blinked back at Mikaela. "Yeah?"

"You ok? You look…tired." She reached forward and put a hand on his cheek. Her blue eyes bore into him filled with concern as she leaned into his shoulder. "I know you've been through a lot lately, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "I know. It's just… some stuff is too tough to talk about right now."

"I understand. I'm here though, when you need me."

"Thanks."

"So let me get this straight." Miles pursed his lips. "These guys have girls and guys like us… only they're not like us…there's only like, one girl for every few hundred guys?"

"Yeah something like that." Sam grinned at Miles confusion. Bumblebee chuckled softly trying not to shake them too much.

"There used to be more before the war. However our numbers on all side have dwindled."

"And what's the point of having girls and guys? I mean, you guys just build new robots when you want, right?"

"We can build them but we cannot give them life without spark bonding or the Allspark's power." Bumblebee offered.

"So…you're telllin' me Ironhide… Mr. Tough Guy gonna whoop your ass dude has… a wife."

"Essentially, yes."

"Dude, and I thought HE was scary."

"Bee…" Sam said quietly, something occurring to him. "You're hoping that Arcee is with them, right?"

"Arcee?" Mikaela questioned curiously.

"Yes." Bumblebee sounded flustered, if it were possible. "To know five femmes survived means it's highly likely that Arcee is one of them."

At that, Miles and Mikaela both brightened. "You got a girlfriend!?"

"That's so sweet!"

"Quiet you three." Prowl shot them a warning look. "They are coming."

Sure enough, on the horizon were several lights drawing nearer. In the lead was the now familiar alt-form of Chromia, and behind her followed a mottly crew of vehicles that once again looked like they were directly out of a sporty car show. Directly behind her was a sleek silver car whose streamlined form spoke of speed and power. "Dude…" Miles hissed. "That's a McLaren F1! You know how rare those are?!" Miles wasn't done yet however as he sputtered at the other two flanking the silver car. The first was a soft green Ferrari, the other a fiery red Alpha Romeo. And bring up the rear was an even more peculiar sight. A single motorcycle with a rider astride was zipping along in the dust clouds of the others.

The Autobots all waited patiently in a gathered formation at the exit of their base, watching the five arrive, and as Chromia slowed, they all began their transformations in sync. Standing before the gathered group were five mechs, femmes rather. And now that Sam saw them all together he could see the distinct difference in shape. He had thought it hard to picture what a female bot would look like ever since Bumblebee had told him about his flame Arcee. It turned out his imagination hadn't been far from the truth. While at a glance it wasn't obvious they were any different from the rest, there was a certain amount of curvature to their structure, more elegant lines, streamlined figures and definite feminine choice of paintjobs. The tallest by far was the McLaren whose silver body shone white in the moonlight, accents of pink flames dancing about her form. It was she who stepped forward to address the crowd. "Optimus Prime." Her voice was firm and to the point, but softer than Chromia's had been.

Optimus stepped forward with a smile on his face. "Elita One."

"It has been too long, my love."

Miles almost had a heart attack.


	44. Chapter 31: Explanations and Explosions

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 31: Explanations and Explosions**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"Look, I'm not having this discussion right now."

"Oh yes you are, young man. We're going to talk about this!"

"No mom, we're not." Sam said tiredly, rubbing a hand against his forehead to hide the look of frustration passing over his features. It was taking all his concentration not to snap at his mother who was rightly indignant at what he'd just told them. "I've made my decision. Considering what's going on, I feel it's the best one. I'm going down to take the GED tomorrow. Then, I'm going to move onto the Autobot's base permanently. It's just getting too risky for me to keep shuttling back and forth like this, both for me and for you."

"I don't see why you have to do this at all." Judy crossed her arms, obviously irked. "You're perfectly safe here!"

"I think he's right, Judy." Ron butted in suddenly, putting a restraining arm on his wife's shoulder. "I've seen the news reports lately, and even though they've come up with excuses for some of those attacks, we both know who really is behind it… and from what Sam's told us of his… condition…" He hesitated glancing at his son who gave him a thin smile in return. "…I think that he knows what's best for him. He's an adult now, he can take care of himself."

"There's one more thing I wanted to tell you." Sam said quietly, his eyes lowering. This was going to be the hardest part. He was secretly glad he'd talked Mikaela into keeping Arcee company outside, despite Bee's protestations. "But I'm not sure you can handle it right now, so I'm going to wait on that one." He said slowly. "But I want you both to know that I've thought this through, it's what I think is right, and it's what I feel HAS to be done. I hope you understand."

"We do son." Ron said firmly, silencing Judy before she could protest. "I know why you want to do this. I have to admit, were I ten years younger I'd be in your shoes doing the same thing. You have our support in whatever you plan to do."

"Just promise me one thing." Judy said after a momentary pause in which she ran her hand over her face to discreetly wipe tears away. "Tell me you'll visit at least on weekends."

Sam smiled. "It's not like I'm leaving the country..." _Yet anyway…_ "I'll just be across town."

"I know but…" Judy bit her lip. Ron just chuckled and squeezed her shoulder again.

"Our boy's grown up, dear." He reminded her gently. "Hell if I'd been through half of what he's gone through this last year, I'd be ten years older myself."

"What is it with you and age today…" Judy muttered.

Sam smiled and stood smoothly to his feet. "Thanks guys. I know you wanted to see me go to college…. But honestly what are they gonna teach me there that I can use with the Autobots anyway."

"Mechanics… or Engineering." Judy retorted sourly.

"I think between Ratchet and Wheeljack I got that covered. Heck, Mikaela's got a leg up in that direction already. And I know more about robot anatomy than I do human anatomy by now." He rubbed the back of his head. "Besides… I kind of think I belong with them… I mean, being what's happened to me I certainly would have to play it careful in the 'real world'."

"Yeah, about that…" Ron asked curious as always. Sam winced. His father had wanted to know all the curious details, and Sam had the feeling he was secretly jealous of him. He hadn't yet indulged them in all the small things he'd been practicing yet… but he supposed they had a right to know. "What is it exactly that you can do now? I kind of understood the whole organic fusion with metallic bit… but it sure doesn't show up on you."

"I know." Sam said shrugging slightly. "And Ratchet doesn't think it ever will unless something happens to severely strain or damage my organic half. And that would like mean a nuclear blast or something."

"Dear god…" Judy gasped. "Some of what those things can do is close to that!"

Sam grinned. "Yeah but I'm not stupid enough to stand in the middle of one. I'm still afraid of dying you know."

"As well right you should be!"

Sam chuckled and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Anyway… It's not so bad. I've been able to replicate some parts, do some mimicking and my memory is damn near like a computer now… I remember EVERYTHING." He grimaced at that. "Even if I don't wanna."

_-Sam. I am getting a distress signal. Please hurry and finish your conversation.-_

Sam grimaced. Oh right, abuse the new transmitter he'd been keeping in his brain. It had taken hours of practice and Ratchets' careful observation before he'd managed to replicate an Autobot comm., then it had taken him hours more to actually be able to concentrate hard enough to HOLD it in place. That's probably why he felt so tired today, the constant small flow of power to keep the created part from melding back into himself. But he was proud that he'd been able to hold it in place, and now it was beginning to feel second nature, like sucking in your gut, or tensing a muscle. -_All right, almost done Bee.- _"Anyway… I gotta get going." He said aloud to his folks. "I'll be back tomorrow probably to pack up some things and take em over there. I've got half my stuff there anyway, won't be much."

"We'll help." Judy said quickly.

"Er…" Sam gulped at the idea of his mother going through all his things. He didn't THINK he had anything incriminating left in his room… but one couldn't be sure. His memory from before the Mission City incident didn't have the photographic imprint he possessed now. "…that's ok Mom, don't trouble yourself. Anything I leave though is fair game." He grinned. She'd like that… cleaning his room. Yup.

With a final hug to them both, Sam slid back out the door and approached the threesome waiting for him. Mikaela was leaning against Bumblebee's hood talking to Arcee who was crouched transformed in the yard. Fortunately for the small femme, her bulk made it possible for her to hide within their yard, whereas Bumblebee was a bit more obtrusive. He obviously was a bit irked at the situation, as his engine rumbled as Sam approached.

Mikaela glanced his way and straightened up with a smile, as Arcee's blue optics shifted to stare at the approaching human with the unbidden curiosity he'd come to realize was her first nature. "How did they take the news?"

"Pretty good. Mom flipped out as usual, but Dad kept her in line." Sam said with a shrug.

"You didn't tell them the part about leaving then?" Her eyebrow arched.

"Nah." He said quietly. "Somehow I think if I dumped everything in their lap all at once Mom would have a complete breakdown. I'll let them chew on this for a while. It's not as if we'll be going anywhere anytime soon. It'll be a few years still, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Mikaela said with a small sigh. "We do have the time…"

"Anyway, Bee said he got a distress signal?" He asked, turning towards his guardian who now had become more like a partner than a protector. "What's up? One of ours?"

"It appears to be." Bumblebee said slowly. "However it is an old frequency. It isn't far… we could check it out on our way back to the base to find out if it's genuine."

"And what if it's a trap?" Arcee asked with an arched lift of her optic ridge. Somehow the bird-like quality to her face made her appear overly-critical all the time. "You and I hardly are a match for any brute attack force."

"We sneak in quietly." Bumblebee said simply with a shift on his axle. "Dampen our fields so no one knows we're there, see what's up and report back. I don't think it's too risky. Besides, we should check it out just to see. It could be one of our people injured."

"There's been no sightings lately." She pointed out, lifting her head skywards. "And my squad didn't pick up anything on our radars when we entered orbit."

"So maybe it's someone who's been here a while." Bumblebee said with a note of exasperation in his voice.

Sam and Mikaela both exchanged a look. Ever since Arcee had shown up, Bumblebee hadn't been quite the same. He was overconfident and a bit reckless, especially when she was around, which was nearly all the time now. They both knew the only reason that Bee wanted to go check out the signal on their own was to impress his girl on his stealthy scout skills. On one hand it was sweet. On the other it was a bit reckless. But then, they really had no say in the matter, after all he was the one who shuttled them around.

"Very well." Arcee sighed with a roll of her optics. Like the humans she saw through the macho act and found it either slightly irritating, or amusing it was hard to tell which with her. "But we'll only check it out, no infiltration unless we know for certain who it is."

With an agile flip of her body, Arcee had compacted into the Buel Firebolt she favored, and Mikaela was already pulling the helmet on without hesitation. It was an unspoken agreement that like Sam and Bee were partners, so were Mikaela and Arcee now, if the four were going to be going out together. Plus, Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Mikaela was overly glad to have an 'Autobot of her own' instead of always hanging with Bee and Sam who often behaved like two irritating teenagers. Arcee was a bit more practical and up her line of attitude.

The four peeled out of the sub-division and headed out of town towards where Bee traced the signal.

-_Sam, I think you should try and talk some sense into him.-_ Came a sudden private transmission in his head. Sam tried to keep a straight face and not betray the smirk that pulled at his lips. He was getting better at not jumping every time someone messaged him internally. –_We should contact Ironhide at least._-

_-I'll try, but you probably know him better than I do._- Sam sent back, casually looking out the window as not to let Bee suspect him of having a private conversation with his robot girlfriend. _–Why not just tell them anyway?_-

_-Because you could get away with it. I can't._-

Sam cringed. Oh the implications of that. "Hey Bee, maybe you should just radio Ironhide and let him know. He's nearby isn't he? It wouldn't be a big problem."

"Sam!" Bee sounded rather scandalized. "I would think you of all people would understand what I'm trying to do here."

"I get it buddy." Sam grinned. "Impressing a girl. I've been there, I know how it goes. But there's such a thing as playing it smart. Don't you think she'd be impressed more if you did this smart?"

"I know what I'm doing. I've done this plenty of times on my own." He huffed a bit. "I survived several years here on my own."

"Yeah but no Decepticons found your ass and laid traps for you."

"Certainly they did. I just outsmarted them."

"Uh huh. Ok, your call." He knew better than to push the issue.

Their destination wasn't far outside of town, just on the fringe beyond the city limits. As the two vehicles pulled up to the gates, Sam stifled a small groan. "Oh no… not here."

"What?" Mikaela asked, pulling the helmet off and staring at the gates. "It's just a junkyard."

"Yeah… junkyard with big ass dogs that chased my aft last time I was here." Sam grumbled and gave the steering wheel a smack. "Following YOU as a matter of fact. Got me arrested. Yeah, not fun memories pal."

Bumblebee just chuckled and opened his door. "Quiet both of you. Recon."

Sam slipped out and backed up as needed, Mikaela doing the same as the two changed forms. Arcee climbed the fence with a few fancy steps and flips, Bumblebee just pushed through it, breaking the lock.

"Nice and subtle, Bee." Sam muttered, but grasped Mikealea's hand as they moved forward as a silent group. They had done similar exercises before, and knew the safest place was several feet behind the Autobots, and usually giving themselves a corner to dive behind if need be. Directly behind was always a BAD idea, as they could fall, or a rogue blast from enemy weapons could vaporize them in a second. They both also knew the protocols for this. Silent running meant silent completely. The two Autobot's footsteps barely made the earth quiver, something that never ceased to amaze the humans for Bee was of formidable size and bulk to walk so quietly. He definitely did know his craft. But in addition to silent walking there was to be no spoken communications, and no radio communications. Enemies were trained to pick up on even the smallest frequency transmission or vibration.

Sam himself had a few trump cards he now could play. As the two paused to scan the area, he concentrated a moment and felt a strange tingle behind his eyes as he tried another trick he'd practiced with Ratchet. He shut his eyes once continuing to concentrate then re-opened them to see an entirely different spectrum dancing before his vision. It wasn't perfect, he still couldn't display all the read-outs that the Autobots managed to maintain in their optics, but this was mostly due to the fact that his brain even advanced as it was now couldn't process so many signals all at once. So, Sam had to compromise and choose one thing to focus on at a time when using his newly created optics. At the moment he'd chosen to put on the heat sensor display. Everything before his vision showed up in colored spectrums of heat sources. Directly before him two bright emissions glowed roughly in the shapes of Arcee and Bee. They were pretty good about controlling their temperatures when on recon, but it still showed up if you were close enough and in line of sight. Sam scanned around carefully looking for anything moving. He got a rough elbow from Mikaela at the side and blinked at her, only seeing a glowing hue of reds oranges and yellows that was her face. "You know I hate it when you do that." She whispered in barely a breath at his ear, so soft he nearly missed her words altogether, and to be sure no one else picked them up either. Sam grinned at her indistinct glowing outline then turned his focus back on their surroundings. Yeah, she hated it when he tried this, mostly because she always said it looked downright weird when his eyes literally transformed into blue glowing optics exactly like the rest of the Autobots. It just didn't fit well with a human face, and he agreed with her. However, he had to admit it was handy seeing other spectrums, especially in the dark where his human eyes were nearly useless. He'd sacrifice style for practicality any day of the week.

However his newly created optics were showing him that there appeared to be no heat sources anywhere nearby. They appeared to be alone, which was odd now that he thought about it. Where was the signal coming from?

"I don't see anyone." Arcee finally spoke up, straightening. "No transmissions, no heat sources, no imprints on the ground that would indicate any mech presence."

Bumblebee sighed slightly, shifting and lowering his weapon, his face guard lifting as he stood down his alert status. "That distress beacon came from somewhere around here… who could have sent it if there's no one around?"

"I don't like it." Arcee said firmly. "It feels like a lure to a trap."

"But no one's here to trap us." Bee pointed out. "Unless Decepticons are better at hiding, but given the fact that other than junk there's nowhere to hide here…"

Sam shivered as something tickled the back of his head the moment Bee said that. No…something wasn't right here… He turned his gaze around, still on heat sensor mode, looking for something… but like before he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

However, Mikaela apparently did. Abruptly her hand left his. "Wait.. Sam take a look here." She said softly, kneeling down somewhere to the right.

He closed his eyes and relaxed his newly formed 'transformation muscles' as he liked to call them, and felt his eyes slip back into normal organic mode. He walked over to her, squinting in the near darkness. "What is it? Oh slag." He winced as he knelt down and saw exactly what she'd seen. He'd completely missed this before, and as he knelt beside her he saw why. Three dogs were laying off to the side obviously dead, and had been for some time. Long enough that they didn't register on any heat scans… But the blood hadn't attracted any critters yet. "Bee." He said in a low voice. "We should leave. This doesn't feel right."

"I am inclined to agree with Sam." Arcee said softly. "Let's go."

"You three go on." Bee said turning back towards the center of the junk yard. "I want to finish checking this out. If it's one of our men whose gone offline and stopped transmitting we need to make sure to find him. If it's not, we need to know what it was that sent the signal."

"Bee, these dogs didn't just die on their own." Mikaela said angrily glaring up at the stubborn Autobot. "Something killed them. Something big. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't a bulldozer."

"It could have been, you never know." Sam said with a twitch of his lips.

"Shut it."

"Mikaela, Sam come with me." Arcee shifted form, and Mikaela slipped onto her seat quickly.

Sam however shook his head. "You two go, I'm staying with Bee till he finds out what's going on here. Someone has to back him up. Why don't you guys go out of the area and report back so the others know what's going on, we'll catch up in a bit."

Mikaela frowned at him, clearly displeased with his decision, but she also knew he could take care of himself better than she could. Heck, he was probably safer than Arcee at this point. "Ok, but don't take long." She said quietly. "something about this isn't right… it feels like a trap, and the last thing we need is you two getting laid up because your stubborn male heads wouldn't know when to stop kissing our asses."

Sam grinned awkwardly. "Yes ma'm."

He watched as the two roared off through the junkyard, twisting to and fro about the piles as they headed back towards the road. Sam jogged over to Bee's extended hand and clambered up onto his shoulder, finding the perch he usually sat at, right at the neck joint. "You know, they have a point."

"About it being a trap? Yes, Sam I know."

"No, about us trying to kiss their afts." Sam grinned as Bee's optic swiveled down to stare at the small human on his shoulder. "We ARE a bit reckless when the girls are around."

"Perhaps." Bee admitted grudgingly. "I believe it's a universal concept…"

"Amen, brother." Sam grabbed onto the firm yellow armor as Bee began to move slowly through the junkyard again. "What I don't get is, if this is a trap, where're the Decepticons? I mean, they would show up on our scans if we were right on top of them right?"

"Likely. While it's possible to shut one's engines down and power off and lay in wait with only bare minimums running, it would not facilitate a fast attack. They would have to power on those systems to make their assault and by then we would spot them." Bee said quietly. "Unless they have a way of completely masking their signatures…" He hesitated. "Slag… I forgot."

"What?" Sam felt his blood suddenly go cold at the tone in Bee's voice, that added to the way he tensed up. "What did you forget?"

"They have Soundwave in their ranks." Whispered the Autobot with a clear note of panic. "He COULD mask their presence entirely."

"So true."

The explosion took them both by complete surprise.

In retrospect, they both should have expected it. But as it had been pointed out, they had been a bit reckless.

Sam felt the searing heat pour around him and curled himself tightly up into a ball, aware that Bee was also curling his hand around him protectively as they both went weightless. The impact was enough to send stars jolting through his head and Sam suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. His ears roared with a whoosh of wind and a loud rumbling boom that seemed to be slowly dissipating. The smell of burnt wiring was the first thing to hit him, the second was the sudden lack of motion from his partner. "Bee?" he rasped out, coughing as thick black smoke drifted through the protective cage of his partner's fingers that had kept him from becoming squished, toasted or obliterated by whatever that explosion had been.

"S…Sam…"

Sam felt his blood go cold at the rasping rattling sound that came strained from somewhere nearby. "Bee? You ok? Hold on pal, let me out of here…"

"I…cannot…" Came the voice of his partner, suddenly fainter, barely above a whisper.

Sam's heart clenched, as he felt his whole body plunge into ice. Something was wrong. VERY wrong. He struggled to his feet, aches and pains reminding him he was alive, but he didn't appear to have broken anything nor sustained any scrapes or cuts thanks to his advanced physiology. He shoved his arms between two of Bee's fingers and pushed hard, trying to part them. The metal digits didn't move however, and as he squinted out a separation between the fingers, his breath caught ragged in his chest. Bee's head was laying not far away, but it was at such an angle that Sam knew instantly the reason why Bee could not free him. His arm had been completely separated from his body.

As were his legs.

And half his torso.

Bee's optics were flickering blue and directed right at him, wide with fear and shock at what had just happened. There were light blue sparks of energy spitting out from every direction near his torso, and Sam felt the sickly sensation of fear grasp at his chest as he saw blue fluids splattered everywhere.

"Oh shit." He cursed wildly and doubled his efforts to pry the fingers open of Bee's severed hand keeping him held prisoner. "Hang on… hang on I'm coming…!" His heart pounded wildly. Such damage… he'd never seen anything that bad since…

A cold chuckle of laughter rang through the junkyard, suddenly echoed by more than one accompanying voices. Sam froze as out of the darkness above them, red glowing optics materialized one by one.

"Well that went much better than I anticipated." Came an incredibly pleased reedy voice in Cybertronian. Sam's eyes shifted immediately to a familiar shape of an F-22 Raptor, flanked on either side by two identical figures. However it didn't end there. Through the darkness Sam could see at least six more pairs hovering not far off, and as his heart thrummed loudly in his chest, he saw another glowing red light emerge from a figure that was as black as the darkness around them, visor lit from behind by optics but with a sinister gleam from the single glass mask. "Good work Soundwave." Starscream was grinning widely, inclining his head slightly to the masked black mech. "They were suspicious, but stupid enough to investigate anyway."

There was a rumble of chuckles from all sides. Sam clenched his jaw and glared angrily up at the jet. "What the hell, too cowardly to take us on straight on, jerk?"

Starscream slowly moved into a crouch, his glowing red optics coming closer to the imprisoned human with a definite amount of mirth dancing across their faceted surface. "Hmmm you understand me in my native tongue as I understand."

"Yeah, so?"

The grin widened darker. "Excellent. I also believe you have extraordinary abilities, from what I am told, is this correct human?"

Sam felt his heart fluttering. How much did they know? His eyes slid over to Bee whose optics were still glowing, though definitely much dimmer than before. If he didn't do something quickly… it would be too late… or rather, extremely difficult. But Sam wasn't about to test fate by letting Bee die and try to bring him back like he had Jazz. "What do you want from us?"

"Us? No my little fleshling, not 'us'… You."

Oh shit. Sam swallowed nervously, knowing immediately where this was going. "I'm not going to help you. No way."

"Oh but you don't have much of a choice here, you see." The tone of voice the newly self-appointed leader of the Decepticons was using had the most irritating grinding quality that sounded not unlike nails on a chalkboard to Sam. "Unless you want your little friend over there to meet Primus. And believe me, if the damage we inflicted isn't enough…" There was a uniform clicking of cannons as no less than four pairs leveled directly on Bumblebee's broken body. "Please, demonstrate your control over the Allspark to us. I would love to see if your reflexes are quick enough."

"Sam… don't…"

"Enough out of you." Growled the Decepticon nearest to Bumblebee, one of the jets who appeared to be mostly black. A foot slammed down over the scout's fragile vocalizer and Bumblebee made a warbled protest of pain.

"So, what will it be, human?" Starscream practically purred, his optics still lethally trained on Sam. "Allow your partner to die? Somehow I doubt you can bring him back from the Matrix if we vaporize his body and spark."

Sam grit his teeth, feeling angry hot tears sting in his eyes at his helplessness to do anything in this situation. And Arcee probably was no better off with Mikaela…. Damn he hoped they at least had gotten away and signaled help… they would have seen the explosion and known something was wrong, but there was no way they could have taken on all ten of the Decepticons. Still, as far as Sam knew the Autobots still clearly outnumbered Decepticons… if he could somehow convince them to let him try and help Bee and stall their 'request', whatever it was….

"What do you want?" He ground out tersely, ignoring the squeal of protest from his partner. "And talk fast before I blast you like I did your friend back there." Sam's eyes slid over to the blue jet whose optics narrowed back at him in displeasure. Oh yes, they remembered each other.

"Hm, patience squishy one." Starscream grinned. "I doubt you could take us all down before we terminated your friend." Sam winced. He had a point…. Even he wasn't that fast. "Now…I'm going to be very very nice to you, something by far that you surely don't deserve… However as I am indebted to you for taking Megatron out of the picture I feel more likely to be lenient at the moment."

Sam scowled darkly back at the cocky 'Con. "So spit it out."

"My request is simple. All I want you do to is go over to your friend here…" He gestured towards Bumblebee with one of his massive null-rays that Ratchet had told him about. Not as deadly, but just as dangerous. "And do what you already want to do. Work your Allspark magic on him."

Sam blinked, a bit surprised. "You WANT me to heal him?"

"Precisely."

"Why?" Sam demanded, mind whirling with suspicion. Something wasn't right here… the back of his mind tickled in warning again.

"Don't you WANT to help him?" The Decepticon sounded ready to laugh. "Or simply let him suffer longer by asking pointless questions?"

Sam grit his teeth and glanced at Bee. His optics were so dim that he could barely make out any light from them at all. His spark was fading fast, Sam could FEEL it pulsing desperately trying to hold onto life. He didn't have a choice in this matter. If he didn't act now, even by the time the others came, IF they came, it would be too late. But something clearly was wrong with this situation if the 'Cons had blown them up just to ask him to FIX the damage again.

He closed his eyes and took a slow deep breath, steeling himself. Whatever would happen was going to happen. There was no way he was letting Bee die simply because he didn't trust their intentions. "Fine." He said quietly. "I'll do it. Just get me out of here."

"Gladly." There was a sudden grinding metal sound as something long and sharp dug itself into one of the gaps in front of him, and Sam scrambled back instinctively when a snarling shape materialized out of the bending metal that gave way before him as something pride Bee's fingers open. Glaring at him was possibly something far more frightening than even Megatron, or at least far more fierce. Sam's brain briefly recalled being lectured on non-humanoid shapes, considering Scorponok had been one, but the idea of one taking the form of a deadly predatory feline was definitely not re-assuring. "Back, Ravage." Starscream ordered calmly. The jaguar mech shot him a narrow glare but slowly backed off, it's metal tail whipping back and forth dangerously as it crouched at the base of the visored mech's feet.

Sam hesitantly took a step outside of his temporary cage and refuge, finally able to see the entire squad for the first time. They were a formidable bunch. He hadn't been far off earlier when he'd joked that one of the mechs' could have been a bulldozer. By the looks of the six behind the four jets, they were all types of construction vehicles, and with a sick feeling he'd realized that they had walked past all of them on their way in here. None of them had registered on their scanners, they had been simple cold machines, thanks now he knew to be the work of the one called Soundwave. However, as he stepped closer to Bee, the Decepticons made no move towards him. In fact, the black and purple jet that had been stepping on the Autobot backed away a few steps to wait behind his wing mates. All optics were on Sam as he slowly approached his fallen friend.

He turned his back on them. Whatever they were planning, he knew that they weren't going to attack him. He was too valuable. "Bee?" He slid his hands onto the cooling armor, desperate for some kind of response. The optics were dim, but as he put his hands on his chassis, Sam felt the faint flickering pulse of Bee's spark still determined to hang onto life. He closed his eyes and left his body behind as he slid into the familiar conscious thought of the Allspark energy flowing through him. _Hang on Bee. I'm here. I'm not going to let you die. Just don't give up on me!_ He didn't even wait for a response, sure that Bee would somehow rationalize his death saving something by thwarting whatever the 'Cons were up to. He didn't want to hear it. Instead he slipped inside himself, reaching for the familiar power core and pulling it close to his surface. He'd never tried to repair such significant damage before… Pulling Jazz's spark back from the Matrix he'd had a full body to work from. He'd healed minor injuries, and some not-so-minor ones… but nothing like this. This was going to be difficult. Sam shook his mental head and instead turned toward the task at hand. He plunged into the glowing core of his being and pulled at the power, whispering for it to guide him, help him…

It responded. He felt the surge of energy in his body somewhere back in the recess of his mind, but was too distracted on what he had to do as he pulled up a mental image of Bee's damage, and focused all his energy on that.

At first, it flowed easily like water out of his very being. He could feel the energy transferring itself from him into his partner. He could feel the severity of the wounds begin to recede, the spark grew stronger, the metal began to weld back together, fluids metemorphosized and replicated to replace what was lost.

And then Sam felt something else.

It was a sudden cold plunge into shock that had just been a warmth of reassurance. With alarm Sam realized immediately what had happened the moment a red visored image flashed before his internal vision.

He wasn't alone!

It hit him like a force of a category 5 hurricane. Suddenly there was a struggle for control as Sam felt the chilling cold creep all around him plunging him into an icy sensation of empty darkness as someone wrested control from his very fingertips. The presence itself was a strong force, a phenomenally powerful entity unlike anything he'd ever sensed in the Autobots. It was the controlling power of a Decepticon who was obviously able to communicate with the Allspark, trying to force it's control away from him.

_NO!_ He screamed mentally, fighting the wrest of control with every fiber of his being.. _I will NOT let you use me!_

The cold presence flickered, it's control wavering. Sam pushed harder, trying to block the flood of thoughts and orders that slammed down into him like a gale. _Obey me._ It was a command, pure and simple. A command sent to something that had once been a tool with no sentient control.

But no longer.

_**NO!**_

The force of his resistance slammed through his consciousness like a shockwave, and in that one moment he felt the Decepticon's presence leave his mind, however what Sam didn't realize was the basic law of Physics applied even to the metaphysical.

When force is applied, equal force is returned.

To the Decepticons, one moment Soundwave's optics were glowing bright and intense as he leaned closer towards the human, working his powers. The Autobots hadn't figured on the downside to their little pet turning half mechanical, Soundwave had been able to get inside him when before it had been difficult to traverse a human mind. It had been such an easy simple plan once they'd found out the human's secret. Certainly Thundercracker's injury had not pleased them, but Soundwave's belief he could infiltrate the human's mind had definitely sparked their spirits. It had saved Starscream the trouble of actually capturing the little bug. All they had to do was catch them unaware and manipulate him to their liking and he'd do the work for them. When his defenses were weak, Soundwave would infiltrate his mind and use the Allspark as they wished, overpowering the pathetic human.

It had all worked so smoothly. Up until now.

Soundwave suddenly jerked backwards with a loud pulse from his vocalizer that sounded as if he'd suddenly been delivered a sharp jolt. At the same time all optics snapped to the communications officer, they shifted back in tandem to see something unusual happening to the human.

He was glowing.

"Uh… do they usually do that?" Was all Skywarp had time to say, before suddenly the entire world around them erupted in a sudden explosion of brilliant white light.


	45. Chapter 32: Resurrection

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 32: Resurrection **

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

Indistinct voices detached from the realm of reality drifted in and out of his range of comprehension. For how long, he couldn't be sure, but he had the impression that it was not just one conversation, but only snippets of many different ones. He couldn't even distinguish words themselves, only a distant babble of unrelated gibberish. At first it was a calming reassurance, though his mind couldn't fathom why he was reassured by such an insignificant thing. However, after some time awareness began to prod at him once more. The reason for the reassurance was the simple fact that he was alive, and the voices proved this. It was enough to send him drifting back into a calm void of peace, the voices fading slightly but not vanishing.

At least he was alive. His memories turned rather fuzzy past the knowledge that he had been obviously in danger of dying somewhere in that mix of events. Why he couldn't be sure just yet, but he knew it was something serious.

_You're right…_ Came a soft whisper to his mind, not so much an audible sound as it was an internal thought from somewhere deep within him. _Your life hangs in balance._

_Why?_

_You know that answer._

It seemed so calm here, surely his life couldn't be in such great danger as was implied, could it? But then, why would he be here if there were not something dreadfully wrong?

A face flashed before his mind, familiar and comforting. That was all it took to snap him back into focus. _Bumblebee!_ The memories washed over him in a flood of images as his mind wheeled in realization. _Is he ok? Did he make it? What happened?_

_The answers will come to you. However you must first make a decision._

_What? Why?_

_Because you cannot continue from this point unless the decision is made._

_Who are you?_

_You know that answer._

_I do?_ His mind wheeled. The voice was familiar, and as he struggled to place a face to it, one came. Suddenly the world around him cleared into a softly focused realm of possibility… He found himself standing on the spring meadow of the lookout. Waiting for him was the familiar visage of the silver mech whom he had spoken with once before.

He slowly approached, watching the blue optics as they followed his movement towards him. As he approached, the familiar tickle of knowledge prodded his drowsy brain into trying to place a name to the face once more. Yet, it still eluded him. "You always seem to show up when I'm in trouble."

The silver mech simply smiled in that irritatingly knowing way. "Indeed, Sam. But someone has to point you in the right direction or you would be lost."

They stood on the overlook, empty of any other presence but their own as the spring flowers rippled below them in some invisible breeze that didn't quite reach their faces. "So what am I supposed to do now?"

"You must make your decision Sam. This is the fork in the road of your life. From here you can choose your path."

Sam blinked as suddenly the lookout's scene shifted around them. They were facing the other direction now, and the familiar dirt road twisted up and down the mountain, but both ends drifted into the misty fog that slowly seemed to be rolling into place. Yet, the fog did not darken anything, but rather seemed only to mute the colors, make them appear to disappear into nothingness. "Two roads, and I gotta pick one huh?" He said quietly, staring at both. The one down and the one up both appeared identical, but somehow he knew there was a significant distinction between them. "Which is which?"

"You know that answer. What way is there to go from here? You can choose to return to whence you came, or continue forward onto new places."

"Dude, you totally sound like a doomsayer telling me to follow the white light."

There was a light chuckle behind him as the mech stepped into place at his side, arms folded behind him casually, optics watching the smaller human. "The choice is yours to make. Neither will be easy, but you must choose one or the other."

"How do I know which one to pick?"

"You must make the decision based on where you wish to go. You already know the two paths." The mech lifted his left hand pointing to the road sloping downwards. "If you wish to return to things you find familiar, the life you would have had at it's conception, then you choose that road." The mech shifted his arms to point at the road spiraling upwards into the mist. "But if you choose to go forward, you will experience new things, possibilities to which are endless."

"What's the catch?"

"The catch is you currently are the best of both worlds." The mist shifted in a swirl of light to represent two glowing orbs. To his left was Earth, to his right was what appeared to be a broken shell of a planet: Cybertron. "It was never possible to have them both." The mech spoke. "Like the two worlds to which you belong, you cannot live on both at the same time, you must choose one as your home."

Sam sighed softly, lowering his eyes as the mist shifted back into insubstantial form. "Was it always this way? Was I destined to have to choose?"

"Not necessarily. However as the future is not written in stone, so is your life. The choices we make determine our path."

"And which would you choose?"

The mech simply smiled again. "You know that answer."

Sam blinked blankly at him, brow furrowing. The answer was there… he knew it was, but it was still out of reach.

Unless…

What if he was thinking about this all wrong?

Suddenly it all snapped into place in one brilliant flash of inspiration. The past, the present the future all overlapped here. The mech had once told him this. That Which Was, That Which Is, and That What Will Be…. Here they were all one and the same.

A sense of awe rippled through him as suddenly everything became clear.

He tilted his head up at the mech and grinned sheepishly. "You knew from the beginning what I'd pick... of course YOU'D know."

The mech merely smiled again. "You've made your decision then."

"How can I go back and abandon everything that I've learned and experienced?" Sam said with a simple shrug. "Yeah… maybe things would be easier, maybe I'd be a normal guy without any troubles that I have now… but would I really WANT that?"

"Even if your path takes you places where others cannot follow?"

Sam winced. It was true, this choice was irreversible. Perhaps more now than ever. He was essentially being asked two very important things. What was he planning for his life, and what was he planning for the lives of others around him? It was the most difficult decision he could make. On the one hand, if he chose his old life he would be closer to those whom he cared deeply for and had known his whole life. If he chose the other path, he would abandon them and instead dedicate his life to those who had arrived in his life and impacted it so greatly, those whom he cared equally for. How was one supposed to choose between two monumental choices such as this?

"But then… if I chose the other path…" Sam said suddenly realizing something as he glanced up at the mech. "What would happen to you?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet, what we represent?"

Sam blinked and slapped his fist to his hand. "Oh."

"The choice is and always will be yours to make. Even I have no influence over that. I am here merely to offer advice, not to tell you which path to choose. We are the representatives of choice."

Sam turned to face the metaphorical road before him. "But how can I just turn my back on everything?" he murmured. "If I choose one or the other, eventually I will have to part from the other half of my life…"

"Yes. It's inevitable that you cannot continue to tread both. Eventually those whom you have grown to care deeply for as of late will move on, your life will expire after a long lengthy time in this world… Or, you leave behind what you were brought into this world knowing, what is familiar and venture forth into new territory, unlikely to ever return. Even should you return, it would be different from what you knew."

"Dude, you sure know how to ruin a guy's day." Sam massaged his temple glaring up at the mech. "I hate you."

"That's rather ironic."

"I know."

And with that, the image of the silver mech seemed to slowly vanish into the mist, tendrils wiping him away like water eroding sand until Sam stood there alone in the silence, with the decision laid out before him.

Which path would he choose?

Did he really have to ask himself that?

With a small square of his shoulders, Sam took a deep breath and purposely strode forward, heading up the hill into the mist.

Awareness in the conscious waking world did not come to him as gently as it had in the metaphysical world.

_Geeze. This feels weird_. That was the first thought that occurred to him before one-by-one, his systems began to kick into re-boot mode. Power level at optimum percentage, structural damage on self-repair, minimal damage, mostly re-structuring. The read-outs flashed before his display before he even had a chance to on-line his optics. When he did, the world snapped sharply into focus around him. Though he was only looking at the ceiling of what appeared to be Ratchet's med-bay, it was extremely sharp and detailed like he'd never seen before. There were also a variety of display readings on all sides of his display, showing various functions and power levels, critical system warnings and numbered read-outs of the ceilings' dimensions.

Sam blinked. Well, this was certainly different.

Somehow, he knew what had happened and it didn't surprise him. Perhaps that had been the consequence of his decision to take this path, but be that as it may he already knew what had happened.

His audio receptors could pick up ten different kinds of fans running, the buzzing cacophony of the florescent lights and various computer blips and chirps in the background. Oddly enough it was all very orderly and came to him in a specific filed manner, all labeled clearly and filed in the proper place in his processor. Unlike the disorganized human brain which could not compute multiple functions at once, he seemed quite competent of analyzing all this information in just a blink of time, store it and quickly turn his attention to more pressing matters.

Like, where the frag was everyone?

It was odd that Ratchet wasn't anywhere nearby hovering over his bed as he came around, but a quick thought in that direction pulled up an immediate display before his optics. Apparently all the Autobots were gathered in the central conference room. There were also several organic signatures listed and labeled in the proper order: Will Lennox, Robert Epps, Jorge Figueroa, Reginald Simmons, Mikaela Banes, Maggie Madsen, Glenn Whitman, and John Keller. The familiar crowd all back together.

Wait… WHY?

Sam's new processor turned this information over in the time it took for him to blink. If everyone were here, then there was something BIG going on… And if it was big, that meant Decepticons, and if the Decepticons were involved, that meant he should get his aft up there NOW.

Sam sat up suddenly and regretted it. His processor was fully operational, but the moment he sat up his equalizing stabilizers reeled at the sudden movement, having never been used before. It took him a moment of shuttering his optics while they re-calibrated until he felt ready to try and put his legs to the test. He moved to the edge of the table, and glanced down at the floor. It was closer than he remembered it, but not by much. It would still be a bit of a jump down there, and he wasn't sure he was quite co-ordinated just yet. Best try it out first.

He glanced down slowly to his hands that grasped the table in front of him. Smooth polished silver shone back at him, jointed and flawless in perfect Cybertronian fashion. He lifted his hand to stare at it in fascination, turning it over slowly and watching each joint flex and spin at his command. It was all so effortless, yet looked so complex. His display brought up the read-outs of his parameters, and he studied them in morbid curiosity. He could have analyzed his own schematics for hours, but forced himself to tear his gaze away from his own new body to return to the task at hand. He carefully pushed himself to his feet, and found it was fairly simple to keep himself stabilized. It wasn't unlike walking as a human, once he got used to the different weight which was complimented by added strength and stability. It only took him a few seconds to lower his body carefully down to the ground, dropping the last few feet to land only partially awkwardly on the ground with a small metallic clatter against the cement. At least he'd stayed on his feet. He carefully traversed the ground between the table and the door, taking his time to get used to the way his body moved, the way his scanners processed his environment and translated it back to him in an instant read-out. It was all much more fascinating than he'd ever imagined. As he reached the door, Sam risked a glance over to his right where the shiny surface of one of Ratchet's spare chassis parts lay in a pile of scrap.

The familiar face of the silver mech stared back at him calmly.

* * *

"I'm telling you, it won't work Optimus."

"And I insist you hear out their plans, Prowl. You should not discount an idea simply based on logic."

"Yeah right, since when has he ever NOT operated on logic?"

"Enough, Sunstreaker."

"But sir!"

The atmosphere around the long Autobot sized conference table could be described as nothing short of tense. All the mechs on the base were gathered in one place, shouting out ideas in a disorderly fashion from the left and right, talking over each other while the humans shouted as loud as they could from the center of the table in order to be heard. It had taken a good several full breems for any semblance of order to be established.

"QUIET!" Optimus' booming voice rang loudly through the hall, silencing everyone into an awkward and slightly ashamed pause. "Thank you." He said in a more calm voice, though the irritation still reverberated in his words. "Now… Secretary Keller, you were saying?"

John Keller stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in at the human's sized table placed in the center of the Autobot's own table. The others watched him impatiently, but did not interrupt again. "We cannot hope to mount any offensive against an enemy this great, Optimus. They clearly have us at the disadvantage by working behind our backs for this long, and now with their increased numbers…" He shook his head slightly, folding his arms behind his back as his brow furrowed with a troubled frown. "We've flown in specialists to try and run an analysis on the weapons they've planted, but I'm afraid without a close-up examination there's very little we'll be able to do to put a stop to this."

"I still say that we just send one person to each place, blast it to pieces before they detonate the bombs." Ironhide growled.

"That's your solution to everything, just blow it up!" Lennox snapped in exasperation, throwing her hands up. "Do you even REALIZE what that would do? Even if you somehow don't manage to detonate the payload, which is highly unlikely, just that much radioactive substance near major fault lines and unstable portions in the Earth's crust would be catastrophic! They don't even have to detonate them all, a few would be devastating to the planet! It could obliterate all life!"

"Calm down, all of you." Optimus demanded firmly interrupting any retort Ironhide might have come back with. "We all realize the dire situation we sit in. The Decepticons have placed a very diabolical plan into effect that unfortunately to their favor appears to have worked fairly flawlessly. Perhaps things did not go exactly as they planned, however we cannot deny the fact that right now the balance of this planet is in their hands unless we meet their demands."

"How do we know they won't just detonate all the bombs the moment we meet their demands?" Simmons said calmly crossing his arms, for once being the cool head in the room. "There's nothing saying they can't just blow us all up once we give them what they want."

"True, they could very well do that." Optimus agreed. "However, it would be a pointless waste of resources. For one, the Earth has an abundant source of fuel that could be converted into Energon. The Decepticons know this, and this is why they have made their demands around energy. To simply destroy the planet would put them back in the same situation in which they were before, without energy and a place to make their home. They will not do this unless it is their only and last resort. At the moment thankfully, we are not at that situation."

"Ok, so what DO we know about these bombs? Can we disable them at all?" Mikaela glanced nervously towards Wheeljack, and several other pairs of optics joined her as the engineer spoke up.

"From what I was able to gather from Skyfire's scan of the areas, each of these locations we mapped are not only being patrolled by the Decepticon forces, but are mounted with heavy defenses. Each bomb came already programmed with a sensor grid to detect any motion, sound or heat source and relay it back to the Decepticon's monitoring officer. All it takes is the wrong move on our part, they'll know we're there and detonate it. The areas also have force shield in effect, from what I can determine, so that counts out trying an aerial assault… not to mention Skyfire would be on his own if faced with any retaliation."

"I would rather avoid that." Murmured the large mech from the side.

"It wouldn't work anyway. The 'cons are watching all the locations, and have planned for any of us arriving at each location by constructing defensive towers in addition to the defenses mounted in the bombs themselves. They're heavily fortified."

"So we can't get near them to take them down, we can't blow them up from above… what can we do? Is there a way we could hack their wireless signal somehow and actually disable them using their own codes?"

"I would say that's our best shot at the moment. But it's not likely to be easy either…Decepticon codes are slaggin' hard to decrypt."

"Leave it to me man!" Glenn instantly was on his feet waving his arm enthusiastically. "If it's a hard code, I'm your man!"

"Glenn, sit down!" Maggie rubbed a hand over her face, obviously embarrassed. "If these guys can't do it, I doubt some computer hacker can break the codes."

"Hey, I broke them once before!"

"That's because those weren't encrypted." Wheeljack pointed out. "Decepticons weren't expecting humans to hack into simple protocols. They will expect it now."

"But we can give it a try." Optimus said with an approving nod. "In the meantime the human military can do what they feel is required to occupy the Decepticons. A mere distraction would be helpful to keep them from becoming too complacent, however I do not wish to risk any lives in doing this."

"Not your call Optimus, sorry." John Keller shook his head. "That's up to the President. He knows the risks, he'll send in the troops to do what they can anyway. We do have weapons that can penetrate your kind's armor, if we can take a few down it will help."

Optimus sighed with resigned frustration. It was clear that he didn't like being unable to organize a full on defense or offense when the other allies they were partnered with had their own ideas on how to act. "Very well, I respect your nation's decisions, but I strongly advise you do not directly engage the Decepticons. Leave them to us."

"Can't promise anything, but I'll inform the President of your recommendations."

"So what do we do in the meantime? We can't just sit around here waiting for them to attack!"

"If only Sam hadn't…"

"DON'T YOU DARE BLAME HIM FOR THIS!" Mikaela whirled on Bumblebee faster than the mech could blink, surging out of her chair with fury turning her face bright red. "You ought to be GREATFUL he did what he had to! It was YOUR fault this happened in the first place!"

"Mikaela, calm down." Optimus said gently, though with a firm edge to his voice. "I have already spoken with Bumblebee and he has been appropriately reprimanded for his reckless behavior." The yellow and black scout cringed visibly backing away from the furious human, avoiding her angry gaze by casting his optics to the side guiltily.

His optics promptly widened. "Sam…" He said quietly.

All heads slowly turned as one to look in the direction that Bumblebee was staring, and complete and utter silence filled the room.

For his part, Sam felt his first surge of nervousness as everyone's attention turned to him as he hovered uncertainly in the doorway. He'd only caught part of the heated discussion, but he'd heard enough to know something bad was going on. But now that everyone was staring at him, he suddenly became painfully aware how peculiar this must be for all of them… well he should find it peculiar himself, come to think of it…

He felt a strange tightness in his chest cavity when his optics met Mikaela's firm gaze. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it. On one hand, he could clearly see the relief in her eyes as she stared towards him, and there was no shock there. Obviously she'd seen him while he'd been unconscious. One awkward conversation avoided. But there was something else there too… perhaps a bit of fear along with obvious concern and worry. The oddest thing was, he didn't just see it in her eyes… the moment he looked her way he could FEEL it. Not one of those assumed feelings that humans got after living closely with someone for so long, but a true rush of emotions that weren't his. Suddenly, he understood why. Duh, he should have figured it out before, with all the talks he'd had with Bee… But he had bigger things to worry about right now.

He turned his optics back to the rest of them, and saw a myriad of reactions. Worry, concern, interest, curiosity, anger, irritation and a bit of grief was mixed over the gathered faces, though he noticed a few were missing. Cliffjumper and Hound were oddly absent. Still, that didn't stop him from breaking the awkward silence HIS way.

"What, do I have a bug on my nose?" Sam blurted out suddenly, not even sure WHY he'd decided to react flippantly to their reaction of his presence. As if to drive the point home, he wiped at his face with the back of a hand.

The tenseness seemed to practically release in one small silent sigh of pressure. A few mechs chuckled, some shifted their eye contact back to another place. Most still stared at him, though their gazes were a little less intense. "Sam… it is good to see you up." Optimus said solemnly, his tone only slightly hesitating at the beginning.

"No it's not." Ratchet snapped, shattering the awkward calmness. "What the FRAG are you doing out of my med bay!?"

That got everyone grinning, Sam included. He quickly raised both his hands in defense. "Hey, chill, chill. I'm fine Ratch! Had a nice recharge, good as new… literally." He grinned awkwardly. "Boy that phrase has a whole new meaning now." There was a mix of chuckles, and a few shifted on their feet awkwardly. "No, seriously." Sam said changing his tone. "What's going on? What did I miss this time, other than the obvious?" He hesitantly approached the table, but realized that he was still sadly too short to see over the edge, even given his additional few feet of height he seemed to have acquired. Luckily, he was saved the disgrace of having to do anything awkward as Skyfire knelt down and offered him his knee to stand on, still tall enough to comfortably meet optics with everyone despite kneeling. Sam clambered up and stood there, leaning on the table a little, and trying his best to appear casual as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Most optics shifted back to Optimus, though Sam could still feel several people watching him. "We were discussing a plan of action given the progression of the Decepticon's recent activity. I will update you in a moment. For now…" He turned back to the group, his attention back to their planning session. "Everyone is to remain ON the base, no exceptions. The Decepticons know where we are, the moment you step outside they could turn each and every one of us into scrap before we had time to fire off a shot. I want everyone alert and on double shifts. Patrols, strategy and battle training for all of you. We will continue to analyze tactics and come up with a solution. We do not have much time before the Decepticon's deadline approaches, so I expect all of you to come to my office in the next solar cycle with a list of no less than ten ideas on what we can do given our current situation. Unique and different ideas." He clarified with a quick look at the twins. "We are all working together, but the more concepts we have on the table the more we have to work from. Everyone has their orders, dismissed."

The mechs all began to shift and file out of the conference room, though the majority of them seemed to pass by on the side where Sam currently stood on Skyfire's knee.

"Glad to see ya, kid." Ironhide growled.

"Good job out there by the way." A compliment from Jazz.

_Glad you're ok. _Came a silent transmission from Arcee._  
_

_Snazzy treds by the way. _That was Sideswipe's contribution._  
_

"Good to see you, Sam." Prowl still managed to sound condecending.

Sam…" Bumblebee hovered nearby, his blue optics staring down at his friend with obvious concern.

"Hey…" Sam gave him a nervous smile with a small wave. "Let's talk about this later, ok? I'm just glad you're in one piece again."

"Thanks to you." Bumblebee said quietly, with clear guilt on his facial plates.

"Hey, that's what I'm here for. It worked out. Don't worry about it."

"You call this 'worked out'?" Came an irritated growl from behind him. Sam half turned to see Ratchet glaring the 'Glare 'o Doom' at him. He gulped. "You WILL join me once Optimus has spoken with you." The medic warned in that tone that said if Sam didn't obey him, he would be losing a few limbs.

"Right."

Skyfire waited as Sam jumped off his knee before smiling gently down at him. "Good luck Sam."

"Thanks big guy."

"Sam." Optimus was waiting by the door. "Please join me in my office." His tone had the no-nonsense quality of an instructor or a parent, without the derogatory edge to it some might expect. Sam gave a fleeting glance to the humans watching him from the table, before he quickly turned and followed Optimus out the door. He would have time for reunions later… he had a feeling that his unofficial rank had now just become an official instatement into the Autobot forces. They didn't walk far, as Optimus' office was adjacent to the conference room. As the door shut behind them, Sam shifted nervously on his feet, wondering where he stood in the scheme of things. However, he needn't have worried, as Optimus knelt down to be closer to his stature, and spoke in a gentle kind voice. "How are you doing, Sam?"

He glanced up at the commander, seeing an odd tenderness in the blue optics studying him. A swell of pride rose within him, as he suddenly realized that out of all of them he should have realized Optimus would have been worried sick about what had happened, perhaps as much as Bumblebee. The only difference was, he hid it better than the scout. While no one could replace Ron Witwicky's place to Sam, Optimus came about as close as anyone or any mech could to being a second father to him. "I'm ok… I guess." He said calmly, realizing that he believed his own words. It was strange, now that they were in a quiet location, he could hear the difference in his voice. It still sounded his own, but there was a clear mechanical quality to it much like the other Autobots. It almost tickled in a way. "I kind of knew what I was getting into before I woke up."

"I see." Optimus said with a thoughtful expression. "I suppose I should not be entirely surprised. I am glad to see you are taking this in stride."

"Well, not like…." Sam paused. No, that wasn't right. He had been about to say 'not like I had a choice in the matter,' but that would have been wrong. He HAD a choice in the matter, and had chosen. He smiled. "It's what I want." He said instead. "I could have gone back…gotten rid of the Allspark from my body entirely. But I didn't do it. I wanted this, and I wouldn't be fair if I acted like some spoiled kid over the situation."

Optimus smiled and nodded in satisfaction at his reply. "Well done Sam. I am exceedingly proud of you." Sam smiled wider, straightening his shoulders a bit. "Ratchet has brought me up to date with your specifications."

"Yeah I still gotta talk to him about that." Sam muttered more to himself. "He's not gonna hold back hurlin' wrenches now, unfortunately…"

Optimus chuckled at that. "Even I am not immune from his aim." He tapped the side of his helmet where a small dent mixed with a few other pits and scores from battle. Sam grinned in response as the Autobot commander straightened and sobered. "I am glad you seem to be adapting well. I will leave Ratchet to discuss this matter further with you. I however have a few more things to discuss before I release you to his custody."

Sam felt a strange tickling sensation as he instinctively vented a bit of hot air from his internal coolant system in anticipation for what he recognized to be the start of a reprimand. "I know…" He said quietly. "You're pissed that we went in without permission."

"Indeed." Optimus stated firmly, walking around to his desk and sitting himself behind it, letting Sam climb up into the chair opposite him. They had gone from surrogate father and son to commander and soldier. "I have spoken with Bumblebee on this issue. While he is greatly at fault for initiating this situation and going forth to investigate on his own, you are not without fault as you are his operations partner." Sam opened his mouth to speak up, intending to tell him that he'd tried to stop Bee, but Optimus put a hand up. "I am not interested in excuses, Sam. Bumblebee is a trained soldier, and he unfortunately let his personal emotions interfere with his duty. I have reorganized squads so that this incident will not repeat itself. He has also been temporarily reduced in rank until he can earn his status once again." Sam tensed his jaw, but remained silent. Optimus was in charge, and he knew that he had no right to speak up against him. "While I am extremely grateful that both of you have emerged relatively whole from this incident, the fact remains that there have been far deeper repercussions that either of you had thought of before entering this endeavor." Sam lowered his optics, feeling his shoulders hunch a bit. Yeah… no kidding, repercussions. He'd still be half-human if the hadn't been so reckless. It WAS partially his fault for not being more firm with Bee. Plus if he'd said no and refused to go inside the junkyard, it was likely Arcee and Mikaela would have backed him up, and Bee couldn't have gone in alone, even he wasn't that reckless. But the fact that he hadn't pushed meant that they had all caved in. "You are aware of the regulations that you have broken in this situation?" Sam nodded silently. "Since you have been in training up until this point, I have decided not to pursue any direct disciplinary actions against you, Sam."

He lifted his head in surprise. "Can I ask why, sir?" He blurted out despite himself, and regretted it when Optimus' optics sharpened on him.

However, the Commander simply inclined his head. "You had been acting in a training capacity alone, and I believe we both understood your limitations in acting. You could not have physically stopped Bumblebee if you had wanted to, therefore you were not an equal in this endeavor. However, this is your one allotted mistake, Sam. If you wish to continue to serve with us, henceforth you will be given equal status and the rank of Acting Private with full duties therein. If you make another mistake in judgment, you will be appropriately reprimanded without prejudice. Do you accept this?"

Sam lifted his head and looked Optimus directly back in the eyes. They both knew that his new change had directly been a result of this… and because of this, he now was clearly being offered a way out if he chose it. "Yes sir." He said firmly. "I understand. I won't let you down, you have my word on that."

"Good." Optimus stood and offered his hand out to Sam, who reached forward across the table to grasp it firmly. "Now…" His tone softened. "I must bring you up to date with our current situation." Sam nodded firmly, straightening himself back up, preparing for the… no HIS commander's report. However, Optimus' voice remained quiet and almost gentle. "Sam.. before I begin you must understand one thing….while I hold you and Bumblebee accountable for not following protocol and reporting any suspicious activity, I do NOT hold you accountable for what happened within the junkyard you were investigating. Do you understand?"

Sam blinked, a bit thrown off balance. "But...everything worked out, right? I mean, I'm here, Bee's in one piece, so obviously the Decepticons didn't get what they were after, right?"

Optimus sighed heavily, and Sam could almost see an invisible weight settling down on his shoulders. "Unfortunately, that is not accurate. While it is true they did not manage to capture you which we believe might have been one of their goals, it seemed they had planned out this mission well in advance, even to the point of thinking out nearly every complication and scenario." Sam shuddered. Why did that have a sinister sound to it? Optimus lifted his optics back up, his posture straightening again as his voice snapped back into his commander role. "From what we are able to piece together given our analysis of the situation, it seemed that even had you not gone in alone to investigate, we still would have walked right into this carefully laid trap. I went over Bumblebee and Arcee's scanners myself, and agreed with their analysis. We could not have detected any Decepticon presence, even with a full squad. The signal was old, but valid, likely lifted off of a former prisoner, perhaps even Prowl himself before he underwent his spark transplant and became Barricade. There was no energy signature to indicate a bomb of any sorts. And it is likely that no matter the scenario, you likely would have been present even had you waited for proper clearance. They sent the signal at a time when they knew you and Bumblebee would be close, and would be the first to arrive. Their intentions were to lure you there, and keep you there long enough to spring their trap."

"So…what exactly kind of trap was it?" Sam asked hesitantly. "I mean, I thought it was really, really weird. I recognized Starscream… and the other two jet dudes we've heard about. Then there was this other jet, looked weird though…I think that was Soundwave… he had this REALLY freaky metal cat with him too… scariest thing I've ever seen." He shuddered. "Then there were… six others." He said slowly, trying to mentally recount the pairs of optics in his head. "And the weirdest thing of it all was, after they blew Bee to pieces, they wanted me to HEAL him…" He frowned suddenly. "I guess that's how they got someone into my head…"

Optimus inclined his head slightly. "Up until now we were not aware if any of the Decepticons had the ability to manipulate the Allspark. We assumed some did, as we do, however we had no tangible proof if, and who it might apply to." Optimus sighed resignedly. "It seems now we know Soundwave possesses this ability, which is most unfortunate given his unique talent to read electric pulses from mechanical processors and computers. It is the main reason he is their top specialist and communications officer."

"You mean.. the dude can read your minds?" Sam stared. "Not just force his way into my head?"

"Correct… he has the unique ability to read minds, as you put it. He can also effortlessly infiltrate non-encrypted computer systems, and he is an expert in codes. It is the reason we invented a rotating code modulation that changes our own codes regularly. While not impossible to hack, it does make it difficult for him. However, I did not anticipate that he would be able to use your unique changes to his advantage, nor did I figure he would be able to also manipulate the Allspark on top of this. It makes him even more dangerous than previously anticipated, regretfully."

"No kidding. That guy was TOUGH." Sam muttered with a shudder, recalling the sheer powerful force of the Decepticon's mind. "He was a machine… and I'm not just talking literally. I mean he felt so… strong… cold… focused…"

"Another aspect of his personality, it is theorized he possesses no inherent emotion, but operates on pure logic." Optimus said with a small nod. "Thus, he has no emotions as you would describe them. None have ever seen him lose his cool, to my knowledge."

"Well that makes sense." Sam groaned. "And I thought Megatron was bad." There was a long awkward silence, and Sam looked up to see Optimus' optics focused on the desk with a troubled expression. "What? Oh god, don't tell me… PLEASE don't say it."

Optimus lifted his optics slowly to meet Sam's, and in that moment, Sam felt a stabbing fear of helplessness. "Unfortunately… the Decepticons' attempt to wrest control of the Allspark from you may not have worked as they planned, but it had the end result they had desired…" Sam held his breath, though it was entirely unnecessary for him to breathe, his systems began to heat as he shut off his vents out of fear. "Their plan worked, Sam. They intentionally repaired their fallen comrades, hid them beneath the junk piles, and then used your surge of energy to re-power their sparks."

Sam felt his processor begin to run wild circles. "No…" he whispered. Suddenly it all made sense… they had wanted him to heal Bumblebee so they could take that ability and use it to revive their own comrades… it was a simple plan… and though they hadn't exactly gotten control of him, he'd retaliated from the attempt… and since he'd been healing Bee at the time, guess what kind of energy had ripped out all around him… "H…how many…" he whispered harshly.

Optimus hesitated. "From what we were able to count from Arcee's long-range scans…" He paused, then continued heavily. "All of their fallen comrades… and several newly constructed Earth-made mechs…. They number approximately double our current forces."

Sam looked across the table, his gaze helplessly begging Optimus in silence not to continue.

"Megatron is among them."

He felt as if the entire world were about to open up and swallow him whole.

Primus help them all… he had just resurrected the Decepticon army.


	46. Chapter 33: Coping Mechanism

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 33: Coping Mechanism**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"STARSCREAM!!"

The bellow rang through the Decepticon base like a howl of a hurricane. Somewhere deep within a dark corridor, far out of the way, the recipient of said name flinched and looked fearfully over his shoulder down the dark passage.

"Oh man, he's pissed at you now." Muttered Skywarp quietly from behind his wing commander. "And here I thought coming back to life might improve his temper."

"Fat chance." Thundercracker snorted, warily gazing down the hall as well. "If anything, he's madder than before… some human brought him down, wouldn't that make YOU furious?"

"I'd think it would have been funny."

"You would."

"Shut UP both of you." Hissed Starscream tensely. "Primus… If I ever find Soundwave, I will personally rend his wings from his body and MAKE him a groundling again!" He snarled viciously, slamming a fist into the thick rock wall sending cracks splitting the rough hewn surface. "That double crossing shifty good for nothing son-of-a-glitch…" His optics narrowed angrily. "He never intended on following ME! He only did it to bring HIM back!" Skywarp exchanged a glance with Thundercracker, who just gave a very tiny shake of his head to prevent the other from speaking up. They knew better than to test Starscream's patience further. He had already been double-crossed and tricked out of his new mantle of leadership, he was sore enough over that. Add to it the fact that SOMEHOW Megatron had known that his second in command had fired his own missiles at him while battling to grab the Allspark, and you had one potentially explosive situation. "The nerve of him…hiding HIS body with the others behind my back…."

"STARSCREAM!!"

The jet cringed again. "Hey, you better go see what he wants this time or you know he'll lose it." Thundercracker said quietly. "Just, dodge quick."

"Bah." Starscream smirked in a dark voice. "I have no intention of becoming his target practice again. He isn't the only one who's learned a new trick by coming back from the dead." He flexed a hand into a fist, glaring at nothing in specific. "Just you wait, Megatron… this is STILL my plan… and I still have a card or two to play." His gaze narrowed. "If I cannot control it, I sure as Primus won't let YOU take all the credit. It's MY plan or no one's plan!"

The silver jet stomped down the hallway, his sleek form a bit awkward in the narrow hewn tunnels, but that didn't stop him from walking tall. He didn't even flinch when he stepped into the larger chamber that served for their command room, where his newly revived leader stood fuming in his direction.

Megatron hadn't been happy at all when he'd been revived. Though Soundwave had apparently repaired the minor damage to his severed arm, the gaping hole in his chest was a clear reminder of his previous death. While he had gotten the Constructicons to weld a make-shift armor plate over his spark chamber, it was still a rough patch job and looked fairly ugly against the smooth silver of his Cybertronian jet influenced mech form. If anything, it made him look even uglier. As his second in command entered, Megatron sneered over at him. "What took you so long, Starscream?"

"Forgive me, mighty Megatron." Starscream said smoothly, though his voice had a decidedly icy edge to it. "I was occupied with my duties."

"What 'duties' I wonder." Megatron growled, slowly approaching the jet with deliberate steps.

Starscream was wise enough to make sure he stayed in place, refusing to let Megatron push him away from the exit to the room. He knew better than to let himself become trapped like that. "Duties in carrying out MY plan, sir." He said coolly, optics never leaving his leaders prowling form. It took time to power up that canon, he was much faster than it took to charge it, and Megatron knew this. "Unless you feel that my brilliant execution has been LACKING as to date?"

"Silence your lip, Starscream." Megatron demanded coldly, his voice sending shivers down his second in command's spine. No matter how much he'd wish otherwise, Megatron was VERY powerful…. And very dangerous, even now. He was not someone to trifle or play games with. "I do admit, however…" He grinned darkly. "Your scheme appears to have been slightly above your typical standard…well done."

Starscream blinked. Was that a… compliment? What fuse had Megatron just fried? "Thank you…sir." He said cautiously, aware that nothing Megatron did was by accident. He was obviously being baited for something. "Am I to understand we are to continue with it's application then?"

"You are." Megatron said firmly, placing his hands behind his back as he slowly turned to pace the room, apparently giving up threatening his second in command after his little flaunt of appreciation. "The plan is sound, although it could use some improvisation."

_What?! He didn't say anything about that!_ Starscream silently fumed. Typical. He did ALL the work, and here comes Megatron in, bulldozing him aside to claim all the credit. It had been his idea, him who had carried it out, he who was responsible for bringing back Brawl, Blackout, Frenzy, Scorponok, and Bonecrusher. No doubt he expected to get the horde's share of the profits when they were done to boot, profits that SHOULD have rightfully been his! _Oh just you wait Megatron… I'm not giving up on leadership THAT easily._

Megatron's optics slid keenly over towards Starscream, red meeting red with equal hostility. Oh yes… they both knew exactly where the other stood. "Fortunately due to your adequate performance during my absence we now have a full armada, give or take some cassettes." He smirked slightly. "And I have reports that two teams are on their way."

Starscream lifted an optic ridge. _Would that be the two teams I summoned months ago?_

"Now… let me enlighten you on a little known project that the Constructicons have been working on secretly…"

_Secret... yeah right. _Starscream's gaze narrowed at his commanders back. _Megatron, you fool... you have no idea this entire thing is about to blow up in your ugly face..._

* * *

You would have thought by now Sam would be used to two things: being in Ratchet's med bay, and being glared at by said medic.

Nope.

While there were a few things that had changed, several BIG things actually, those two things remained the constant reminder that no matter how much power he had in his pinky, it was all worth slag when faced with a fuming CMO.

"You DO realize what this means for you, Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam folded his metal arms over his chassis and fixed the medic with an even stare. "I kinda figured it out when I started rattling with each step, doc."

Ratchet shot him a sharp look. "I am being serious Sam. There IS no going back now. There is no longer any organic components remaining in your systems. Everything has been entirely converted, despite my assumptions that such a thing was impossible."

"Yeah, I know doc. I know."

Ratchet fixed him with another look, though this one was slightly softer. "You know?"

Sam sighed, and unfolded his arms, staring down at his protoform hands. "Yeah, I know already. I made this choice while still out of it, talking to… well… I guess it'd be me."

"What?"

There were few chances to actually confuse Ratchet, so Sam grinned at the baffled look on the medic's face. "I was talking to myself… I mean, not like figuratively, literally. It was me, but a future me I think… I don't know exactly how it worked, but I talked to him… me… before… I give good advice to myself." He tapped his fingers on the table awkwardly. "Heck, I don't get half of it still. In a way I guess I always knew he was me, cause I trusted him without hesitation…but it's weird talking to you about it cause I know you don't understand what I'm talking about."

"Clearly." Ratchet frowned. "Do you mean to tell me you were speaking with a future representation of yourself? I fail to see how that is possible."

"Like I said… it's tough to explain. The way he explained it was that the Matrix was kinda this timeless place where past present and future all combine…"

"Bah." Ratchet waved a hand. "I won't pretend to understand. I feel this is better left for Optimus." He turned back to his display, studying the latest readouts he'd done on Sam's new body. "But from what I can see, you are identical to one of us, with a few distinct and unique differences. Your physiology has completely mimicked one of our own down to the most minute detail… however I took a small sample of your energon fluid and discovered that unlike our own, it's concentrated with Allspark energy, as to be expected. My guess is while you may appear to be Cybertronian now, you still are a unique entity." He glanced over at Sam who was sitting there calmly swinging his feet on the end of the table. "Hm… you may wish to adapt your form to a more suitable size."

"Huh?" Sam looked up. "I can do that?"

Ratchet rolled his optics. "Primus… the boy is as dense as a brick."

Sam scowled. "Hey!"

Ratchet just glared back at him. "Simply because your form has changed does not mean your property has changed, Sam. You can alter your size as you see fit, or even revise your protoform as you like."

He blinked. "Oh… right. Well…" He shifted awkwardly. "I'm not sure how to do that exactly."

Ratchet sighed. "Well I am sure someone will be more than glad to instruct you on the fine mechanics of transformation."

Sam blinked as something occurred to him. "So wait… I can take any shape or size?" Ratchet nodded. "So I could like… pick a car one day, then decide to be a jet the next?"

"Essentially, yes." Ratchet turned to study him. "To be honest, I am quite jealous at such a diverse ability. You will of course need to scan and commit to memory any alt form you wish to use so you can choose between them, but the ability to pick and choose your alt form will make you a perfect infiltrator, in addition to be able to escape conflict quickly and surprise the enemy. The only downside is, the enemy will likely be able to identify your unique energy signature if you expose yourself around them too often."

Sam nodded thoughtfully at that revelation. "But it's not like they can really do much to hurt me… Especially now, I mean how much more can they do?"

Ratchet shot him a look. "Never ask that."

Sam's head was chock full of possibilities as he finally emerged from Ratchet's med bay hours later. Yet, while it was much to take in, the possibilities suddenly excited him. He could hardly wait to ask Bumblebee to teach him the finer points of finding an alt form.. or two… or three. He grinned widely at the thought. Boy, Bee was going to be jealous.

However, his smile rapidly faded the moment he rounded the corner to find a strange gathering of mechs and humans all waiting for him.

Oh yes… he had to confront everyone still.

Fortunately the crowd gathered mostly were the curious ones. The twins were there watching him with interest, as were Glenn and Maggie. Jazz waved a hand cheerily completely undeterred by his new appearance, and Wheeljack seemed pre-occupied tinkering with something that didn't look like it really did anything and was just an excuse to look like he was busy.

Sam glanced over the group awkwardly, not sure exactly what he was supposed to do or say in a situation like this. He decided on the simplest approach. "Um… hi guys."

"Dude…" Glenn was the first to break the ice, eyes wide as he shoved his glasses further up his nose. "This is so wicked cool! What's it feel like?"

Sam blinked and grinned a bit, slowly approaching them as various grins spread over faces. "Um… well it's hard to describe. I guess it doesn't feel weird or anything, it's just… different."

"So can you like see through walls'n stuff? Like Superman?"

"Glenn…" Maggie pushed a hand to her face, though it didn't quite hide the smile tickling at her lips. "Would you back off, he's probably been through a lot as it is."

"Nah it's fine." Sam said with a small shrug. "I'd rather talk about it than avoid everyone, actually." He said uncomfortably. "I mean, you're all gonna find out eventually anyway so might as well get it all out and over with."

"Kinda small though." Sideswipe leaned down to study him with curious eyes. "Not going to be able to take much… Even Arcee's bigger than you are, kid."

"I know." Sam grinned coyly. "Trust me it won't be a problem, once I figure out how to transform, that is."

"Damn! Wish I could do something like that!" Glenn complained crossing his arms. "I'd give anything!"

"Careful what you wish for Glenn." Maggie warned. "If it happened to Sam, who knows."

"So you dealin' ok then, Sam?" Jazz asked gently from the side, his smile kind though his optics were a bit concerned. In a way he felt partially responsible for making sure Sam was on his feet and dealing ok, being the local expert on human culture he understood things that some of the others might not.

"Yeah… I think I went through the denial and anger stage a while back… it's all over now, I hope." Sam said thoughtfully. "I mean it can't get much worse than this, right?"

There was an ominous silence.

"Who knows with the Allspark." Sunstreaker muttered.

"I'd be very happy to run any tests you might require Sam." Wheeljack offered.

Everyone took a few steps back from the engineer reflexively. "Uh… thanks, Jack but I think Ratchet's been the one helping me through everything so far, I think it's best I don't change doctors in the middle of my treatment."

Wheeljack looked a bit disappointed but at least Sam had been as polite as possible. He didn't want to offend the scientist, after all he liked him as most people did. It's just… being around him when anything tool-like was in hand often resulted in unexpected side-effects. "Well I'll just get the results from him then."

"Oh, Sam…" Maggie said suddenly as if she'd just remembered something. "Mikaela was outside… if you wanted to talk to her."

Sam winced. That was one conversation he wasn't looking forward too, but one that he wanted to definitely get out of the way as soon as possible. "Thanks Maggie."

"Oh and Miles said something about insisting you see him once you get the time." Jazz offered helpfully. "He was practically hopping mad we didn't let him stick around, but he's got nothin' to do with our defense structure so Optimus sent him home with Ironhide."

"Right." Miles would be fun to hang with, even more so now… though Sam had the feeling he was going to be annoying as hell. "Thanks guys… I know this is weird for everyone, me included, but it's nice to have friends." He smiled at the group. Glenn just gave him a thumbs up, Maggie smiled and shrugged a bit, the twins both grinned at him and Jazz nodded his support.. "Um, I'm going to go talk to Mikaela now." He said quietly. That was enough of a hint, even the twins who were often dense on human issues figured out now was the time to find something more entertaining, and Sam was left to himself as he pushed the door of the building open and stepped out into the large cave exterior.

The sun was shining down just at the right angle to spill light into the center of the base, and it didn't take a long scan to notice Mikaela sitting at the edge of the tarmac on a boulder, staring up at the open blue sky where occasionally a flash of silver white could be seen as Skyfire patrolled the skies above them. The sun poured down around her, her dark hair long and loose on her shoulders and shining ebony in the light. He stood there for a moment, his spark fluttering wildly as he watched her. Now that he was actually one of them, he understood the feeling better. Before, he'd been confused between his organic response to seeing her, typical male reactions, and then this lighthearted giddy feeling of floating that love ballads were made of, and that the mechs actually experienced. It was a bond calling to him. He just wondered how this would work now…

She noticed he was there before he even moved, probably the same feeling in his chest called to her in some similar way. Her head minutely shifted to the side, her eyes cast down though he was sure she could see him out of her peripheral vision. He straightened his shoulders and slowly approached, his feet crunching the rocky ground and obviously giving away any semblance of stealth. There was enough room on the large boulder for him to join her, so he sat down, more like leaned against it, and sat there quietly beside her as they both stared out at the desert sky above the rim of the opening above them. They didn't speak for the longest time, neither wanting to break the silence first, but finally Sam couldn't stand it anymore. "…so…" he said quietly.

"Was it your choice?" She asked suddenly, her voice quiet but calm and lacking any kind of emotion. It sounded flat, disinterested, as if she were simply asking him if there was gum on his shoe. "I have to know if this is what you wanted or if it was against your will."

Sam didn't reply all at once. He couldn't determine what kind of mood she was in, whether his answer would anger her or not. On the one hand, he didn't want to upset her anymore than she probably was, but on the other hand he also didn't want to lie to her or lead her on to believe something else. He turned it over in his processor for a moment, glad she didn't seem to want to rush him into answering, as she sat in silence, staring at the ground with a blank look. "…I…well…" he said slowly. "…it was my choice." He said finally with a small sigh, bracing himself for an angry retort. When none came, he continued softly. "I could have said no… gotten rid of everything, gone back to being normal… but I didn't."

Sam watched Mikaela closely for some kind of response. At first she just sat there stoically, but after a moment her shoulders slumped a bit and she sighed, then to his surprise she leaned against his metallic shoulder, pushing her body close to him as her hand slid over his. "…good." She said softly.

"You're not mad?"

"I'm upset…but not mad, no." She said quietly, finally lifting her eyes to stare at him unblinkingly. She didn't shy away from him or flinch, but met his gaze firmly. "If that thing had made you do something you didn't want to do again… I would have been hoppin' pissed off."

Sam grinned at that and chuckled softly, as Mikaela's lips twitched into a small attempt to smile as well. "Oh… well that's good I guess."

"Don't get me wrong…" She said softly. "This… complicates things obviously."

"Yeah."

They were silent again for a while as both their gazes lifted to the sky once more, following Skyfire's glittering shape far above them. "So… what's this mean for us?" Sam asked finally. "I mean… it's going to change things obviously…."

"I don't know Sam." Mikaela said with a small sigh. "It doesn't change how I feel about you, or what I think of you." She said firmly, lifting her gaze to his again bold and challenging. Sam felt that flutter return to his chest as he realized that she was still determined to see this through. "But it obviously changes how things are going to happen…"

"Yeah." Sam said softly. A thought was pulling at his head, but he wasn't sure if he should bring it up or not. After all, she'd been through probably more than he had, watching this transition while he was unconscious. From what his chronometer told him, it hadn't taken long. He'd only been out for a few days, and the transformation must have been quick and painless. "…what if there's a chance…. That… um…."

"No." She said softly, lifting her gaze to his, her expression rather restrained and pained. "I know what you're going to ask." She said quietly. "I've thought about it too…and to be perfectly honest with you Sam… I like being human. Hanging out with aliens, repairing them maybe even going into space and visiting distant worlds I can handle… changing who I am, what I am… that's pushing it. Maybe you can handle it…. I don't think that I could. I LIKE being human, I LIKE being able to walk around downtown and go shopping for clothes, I LIKE eating fast food…" She trailed off, lowering her gaze with a pained expression. "You do realize you wont be able to do any of that anymore, right? We can't just go walking around downtown, go for a stroll on the beach, go to a baseball game or just hang out with any friends who aren't in on this whole ordeal…" She lifted her eyes tentatively, and Sam could see tears trying to get her to blink. "You'll have to hide what you are from everyone now… nothing will be the same."

Sam lowered his optics, feeling her words strike hard at home. "I know." He said softly. There wasn't much he could say to that, she was right, it was something he hadn't considered fully. Yet, he still couldn't see himself having changed his decision based on that. "I've never been a really social kind of guy anyway though, and we can still do stuff like that, we'll just have to make sure no one's around." She sighed in response. "Yeah I know it won't be the same." Sam added rather lamely. "But there's no sense worrying about what could have happened if I'd chosen differently. What's done is done, right?"

"I wish I could just blow things off like you can." She murmured sadly.

"I'm not blowing it off." He clarified with a small frown, a bit upset that she seemed to think him that cold. "I just… I don't see any point in dwelling on something I can't change. I'd rather try and find a way to get around it, a solution to the problem… I gave up the whole 'teen angst thing' a while ago I guess… It doesn't really serve a purpose, especially with soldiers… and I guess I'm officially one of the group now… Got a title and everything."

She smiled faintly. "I'm glad for you." Sam blinked at her, a bit dubious at her lack of enthusiasm indicating she might not be as happy as she claimed. "No, really I am." She said firmly looking his way. "You've changed a lot, and I'm not talking about turning shiny." She elbowed him with a grin and ended up rubbing her elbow as a result. "You've grown a lot in the last year. You're more mature, more responsible… you think about others and not yourself… I feel almost as if I've been left behind."

"That's not true." Sam protested quickly. "Look at everything you've learned. I heard you saved some lives already by working quickly fixing the others. When we met I thought you just had a hot bod and I was a lucky guy to have gotten you to glance twice at me." He would have flushed if he could have with the look she gave him. "Now… you're way more cool with what you do, Mik. What's hotter than a hot body?"

"A hot body working on your engine?" She murmured with a smirk.

At that, Sam let out a feeble sputter. "OH boy… never thought of that."

"I have." She muttered, though she was still smiling. "I've learned a thing or two what not to touch…" She grinned in a very sinister way. "And what to best avoid if I know what's good for my health."

Sam gulped.

Mikaela just smiled and elbowed him a bit more gently as not to bruise her elbow again. "But in all seriousness…" She trailed off, still leaning into him. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see how things go… but I'm not sure it'll ever be feasible, Sam… not in the long run."

"Maybe." Sam said softly. "I'd still like to try… you've helped me a lot… more than you realize…." He lightly brushed at his silver chassis, feeling the surge of emotion tickle at his spark again. "I don't know if I'd be able to deal with this if it weren't for you."

"Miles is always supportive." She suggested with a grin.

Sam made a face. "You know… I think Miles is going to be a lot of trouble…"

"What gave you the first clue?" She grinned wryly. "The incessant whining when they made him go home, or the fact he couldn't keep babbling about how his best friend was an alien robot…." She leaned her head on his shoulder lightly as he laughed, and then spoke in a softer tone. "Sam… what about your parents?"

Sam winced and fell silent. He'd asked himself the same question… and to be honest he had only come up with one possibility that wouldn't end badly. "I think I know what I'm going to do."

"So how are you going to break it to them?" Mikaela asked softly, staring out at the open desert with a distant expression. "I can't imagine your mother will be that happy."

Sam winced a bit and vented hot air from his vents in a small sigh. "I'm not going to tell them."

Mikaela whipped her head around sharply, bright blue eyes meeting electric blue optics. "What? You're not going to TELL them?"

Sam looked uncomfortable as he wove his fingers together, staring at the joints as they flexed and moved. "I think…" he said slowly. "…they've been through enough. Dad might be able to handle it, but you're right… I think Mom just might join Gramps and enter into a mental hospital… I'd rather not have that happen."

"But…" Mikaela frowned. "You're just going to cut them out of your life? Don't you care about them at all?!"

At that, Sam shot a sharp look in her direction. "I never said I'd cut them out of my life, Mik." He said in a calm voice that still sounded tense and strained. "I said I don't think I'm going to tell them, not that I'm just going to turn my back and vanish on them."

"Then how do you plan on getting around this little… detail." She said coolly, her eyebrow lifting in an arched question.

"I'm going to talk to Bee, see how his hologram works and make one of my own." He said firmly. "I know better than anyone what I should look like, I don't think it'll be hard to replicate myself." He smirked a little, his facial plates lifting in mirth. "Wheeljack also said something about a new experiment Hound had started before…" He trailed off uncomfortably. No one had really spoken much about the loss of Hound and Cliffjumper, and he was a bit lithe to ask details, not sure just how far his powers of revival might extend. The fact that he hadn't seen their bodies yet told him that it might be impossible. Like Starscream had said, he likely couldn't revive someone whose spark and body had been destroyed. "Anyway…" He cleared his vocalizer in a small cough, feeling it was choking up probably due to dust. "I already told them I'd be moving onto the base, so they'll only get to see me now and then… and it's not a big deal to introduce them to my newest friend."

"Oh? This friend got a name yet?" She mused grinning in his direction and looking thoughtful. "Somehow bellowing 'SAM' across a battlefield might sound odd when you're put next to mechs like 'Ironhide' or 'Prowl'."

Sam snorted. "Don't get me started. I'm sure a codename'll get assigned or something… I mean, everyone else seems to pick one that represents themselves in some way."

"Makes it interesting at least."

"Yeah."

"Well…whatever happens I'm here if you need to talk." She said with a small motion as she leaned against his larger form. "I know things are a bit different now…. But I always will be your friend, no matter what happens… and you've been keeping to yourself a lot lately."

"I know." Sam said softly. "I guess I needed to sort it all out. It was all so confusing, I didn't know what was happening, what it'd mean in the long run… at least now I know where I stand, what I am…I know what I have to do."

Her eyes lifted, strained through her smile. "I think you're very brave for doing this… It's a very selfless thing to do, but on the other hand…." She trailed off. "I hope it's what YOU want."

"It is… I mean… I wish I could have everything I want, you know." He said quietly. "I'll miss you when and if we ever leave… I wish you could come."

"I know… but we've talked about this."

"Yeah…"

"Let's just live in the present while we can. Things will change again soon enough."

Almost as if on cue…

"Sam, Mikaela." Both of them turned to see Bumblebee rushing towards them, his face clearly distraught. "There's trouble. Come with me."

"What's up?" Sam asked quickly.

"Megatron's making an announcement…" Bumblebee said uncomfortably. "Over all the human airwaves."


	47. Chapter 34: And So It Begins

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 34: And So It Begins**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

_Note: I would like to thank you all for sticking with this story so long, it's developed far further than I thought it ever would. I've enjoyed getting to this point. As for those of you who dislike the concept of Sam becoming a mech at last, my apologies to you, but I thought it was a fairly obvious development, especially given that the story began focused on the start of his transformation. I too enjoyed watching him walk the line, however it was always my intention to develop him this way, as it's inevitable with the story idea for Part 3. So apologies if you don't like it, but don't badmouth it, please. There's no need for it, this is a story meant to be enjoyed. Anyway, I bring you the final 3 installments of this fic, I hope you enjoy the dramatic finale, and for those who don't at least leave considerate remarks please. I write because I enjoy it, not because I want to hear angry retorts about how things happen in the fic and why you don't like it._

* * *

The tension in the room could be described as nothing short of painful. If a pin had dropped, all would have heard it, none would have cared. All eyes and optics were solely focused on the control room monitors that were broadcasting from the local airwave channels.

Megatron was on every single one of them.

"How long as he been at it?" Someone whispered as Bumblebee shoved mechs aside to make room for the two smaller wards whom he was leading. Sam pulled Mikaela after him, shouldering his way through knees and ducking under arms until they were up front with the rest of the humans, watching the monitor with the rest of them.

"Only about five minutes… but already he's boring me." Ironhide drawled. "Same ol' stuff… You'd think he'd be more creative after coming back from the dead."

"Ironhide…" Optimus warned, and the weapons specialist glanced down at Sam with a sudden guilty look.

Sam just smiled and shook his head then turned his attention back to the monitor. "What's he said so far?"

"The usual. Greetings foul squishies, I'm your rightful leader blah blah blah." Sideswipe yawned. "Can we go kill him again? Please?"

"Geeze, no matter how many times you kill them they keep COMING BACK." Will groaned slapping a hand to his face. "I swear, you guys are tougher than anything science fiction could possibly create for some big blockbuster movie."

"SHHHHHH!" Came a myriad of hisses.

"…given our superior status on this pathetic little backwards planet, I am being more than fair to offer you a deal." The hissing voice of Megatron continued over their hushed whispers. "If you do not agree to my terms I will simply turn this planet into a smoldering heap of garbage." His smirk was wicked and cold. "Strategically placed bombs have been placed in key locations around your pathetic world. Should you not agree to my terms, I will detonate them and leave you to your sad fate. Any resistance will be met with deadly force, whatever the source."

"We've come up with a plan to disable those bombs right?" Arcee asked worriedly.

"We're working on it." Wheeljack said with a heavy sigh. "Unfortunately the codes are proving difficult to crack…. If we even so much as trigger the wrong sequence it could have disastrous consequences. In addition it appears they have anticipated our attempts to hack their network and are constantly re-writing protocols."

"It's damn frustrating." Glenn added cheerily. "But I'm workin' on it!"

"What's to stop us from just storming them?" Sunstreaker growled.

"They outnumber us now."

"Even with our new arrivals?"

"Even so. We detected new landfalls lately… it appears more than one full team has arrived…"

"Primus… this is fast turning into the Third War."

"It may come to that if we cannot disable those bombs. This planet is in Megatron's control right now…"

"What do we do then?"

There was an ominous silence. "We fight." Optimus said quietly. "And hope that we can stall them long enough for those codes to be broken. Our second plan is to find a way to infiltrate each location and physically disable the bombs. I know that it seems impossible at the moment…. However we do not have the time to second guess ourselves. I will accept any and all suggestions."

It was quiet again. No one had any idea at all what to do about the situation and the feeling of helplessness was beginning to weigh heavily on them. They couldn't remote trigger the bombs, as that would have the same effect as if the Decepticons had detonated them. They couldn't approach or move the bombs or they would go off. They had been too late in realizing the Decepticon's plan… if those things went…. Sam glanced at Mikaela with a helpless expression. In this situation he was not of much use. These bombs were not Cybertronian in origin, but built using materials on earth.

"I have an idea." Wheeljack spoke up. Everyone groaned. "What?" He asked innocently, blinking at them all in confusion. "I promise, anything that blows up is on THEIR side this time." He glanced hopefully at Optimus who nodded for him to proceed. "All right, so we're dealing with nuclear powered bombs that are placed in geological weak points of the earth, correct? What do we know about geological weak points?"

"They're faults, volcanoes, parts of the earth's crust that is vulnerable." Will spoke up frowning. "And putting a bomb in those would trigger earthquakes, fractures and God knows what else."

"Right." Wheeljack nodded. "Now I'm not a geologist…" He glanced hopefully at Skyfire who seemed significantly interested. "But I am an expert in chemical and biological reactions. So what can we assume about the bombs? They are built with motion sensors meant to detect human and mech energy signatures and movements, yes?"

"Correct." Prowl spoke up frowning at the engineer. "Anyone attempting to get near would notify the Decepticons of their attempt."

"But it wouldn't trigger the bomb unless they sent the signal, yes?"

"Correct. It will not detonate on it's own, it appears not to be rigged this way."

"Therefore, if the ground starts to shake, they would notice it's just a tremor, if something slow and naturally occurring were to approach it, it would not detonate."

"What are you getting at?"

"A nuclear reaction requires a combination of fission and fusion. It requires this reaction to detonate. Now, assuming we are dealing with more readily available materials, there are several types of bombs that the Decepticons might have built or stolen. Since they would have had to alter them on their own, we can assume that most alterations were done with an additive mechanism to trigger the payload. If they built weapons of their own it would have taken far longer than they had, even in the last year. Therefore we can assume they have stolen fission, fusion or thermonuclear weapons, all of which require a specific release of gas and heat to ignite the fuel within and start a reaction."

"I don't see how we can alter this situation." Skyfire frowned. "Most of those bombs are placed precariously close to those very hot elements that would provoke a reaction in the first place. They're very lucky that one hasn't accidentally gone off already."

"True." Wheeljack admitted. "However, there is one thing that would stall the reaction long enough for us to do something about it. Cold." He glanced around at everyone. "Extreme cold would stall any detonation. If we could freeze the circuits long enough to disable the detonation sequence, we could render them inert."

"And how do you plan on freezing these bombs all at once?" Ironhide asked coolly. "I find it unlikely that we could stop them all at once."

"How many bombs are there again?"

"Approximately twenty that we were able to locate." Prowl's map displayed on one of the screens, indicating where the bombs were.

"Are you certain that is all of them?"

"Yes. We have collaborated with the military and managed to track their coding protocols for the weapons. This is the complete network."

"Then there are twenty of them. There are enough of us to take one each. With some human backup we might be able to get close enough to detonate a solid carbon dioxide canister and encase the bomb. All we need to do is lower the temperature long enough to vent the reactant element, and the bomb is inert."

"And just how do you anticipate being able to approach without the Decepticons knowing what's going on?" Skyfire asked slowly. "The sensors would detect us."

"These sensors are meant to detect motion of anything large enough to be a human, and any energy signatures given off by a mech." He lifted an optic ridge. "It would not however detect a matter projection, as the projection is just a concentrated bunch of particles, and does not give off energy of it's own."

There were several blank looks.

"Look…" Wheeljack said slightly impatiently. "Hound was working on a matter projection alternation sequence to our standard holograms before…" He winced a bit. "…before he and Cliffjumper were killed."

"Fraggin' Cons…"

"Anyway, the matter projecting mechanism is nearly finished, all I have to do is install it into each of you, and you will be able to interact with your environment as any human might."

"Wait…. You're saying that we send our holograms in to drop off a canister of dry ice, freeze the bomb and disable it? All at the same time… across the globe?" Prowl asked slowly. "That sounds idiotic."

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Actually… I do." Came a sudden quiet voice from the large jet in the back of the room. All heads turned to see Skyfire looking distracted and troubled. He lifted his optics to stare across at the rest of the gathered mechs and humans. "I'm sorry Wheeljack, while the concept of your plan is brilliant, it's not going to work."

"Why not?" The engineer asked with a wounded tone.

"Because while each of us is split up trying to do that, the Decepticons will be attacking at the same time… and if we're not there to stop them just as many humans could die in the battle as when the bombs go off."

There was a weighted silence. "Of course… it would be expected they would launch a counter offensive. They needn't be present to defend the bombs with those motion sensors." Prowl said with a frown. His optics lifted. "But that leaves the question, how do you know for certain this is what they have planned, Skyfire?"

"Because." Skyfire said in a low whisper. "Starscream just told me."

There was a very long icy pause as optics all widened in shock before voices exploded loudly in the control room. Skyfire winced, and remained silent as Optimus' loud voice boomed out for silence. It took some time, but finally the commander sighed and turned his attention towards the Blackbird. "Skyfire… are you telling me that you are communicating with the Decepticon Air Commander?"

"I am sorry Optimus." Skyfire said, truly sounding ashamed and worried. "I didn't intend to speak to him… however he contacted me just now…"

"Why in Primus' name would he contact you?!" Sunstreaker demanded angrily. "Are you collaborating with the slaggin' cons?!"

"We were friends before the war." Skyfire said simply with a small shrug. "Before we took sides… We were reunited after you rescued me… it was a… strained reunion. However despite the vast differences in our goals and morals, despite the atrocities that my friend has done… it seems that one thing at least has worked out in our favor…" He looked up slowly. "I know Starscream has no noble intentions of preserving human life. He merely wants to thwart Megatron… since he came in and wrested control out of his hands, he's angry. He's just given me all of the access codes to the bomb's network, as well as co-ordinates to where they plan to attack, providing the humans don't comply to their demands."

Shock registered on all the faces in the room. "Starscream gave you this information willingly!?" Ironhide sputtered. "And how do we know it's not a trick?"

"I am certain it is not." Skyfire said firmly. "If you want, you can try the codes, however I would not recommend it. If you access the network, the Decepticons will be alerted to a hack in their systems. Unless we're ready to disable the bombs now, we shouldn't use the codes until necessary. If we wait until the last minute and disable the bombs when the Decepticons are distracted, then the military forces can remove the bombs and safely dispose of them before the Decepticons can retaliate and rework the protocols." He lifted his gaze to firmly stare at Optimus. "I'm certain that Starscream is being truthful in this regard, out of mere need to spite his leader for overtaking his command. Either way, even if we don't believe his access he's granted us, the fact remains that if the Decepticons do mobilize an attack during this operation, we could not stop them if we were all attempting to disable the bombs instead. We really don't have any choice but to trust him in this matter."

"I don't believe this." Ironhide frowned. "Trusting a backstabbing treacherous turncoat like Starscream will only lead to trouble. What does HE get out of this?"

"Simple… he denies Megatron a plan that he devised." Sideswipe snorted. "That mech is one walking contradiction. Primus, I'm glad he's not on OUR side… I don't think Prowl's logic processor could handle that much madness around!"

The mech addressed narrowed his optics, as a flash of dark light reflected in his visor.

"We have two options here, Optimus." Skyfire said quietly. "We either trust the information he's given us, which would effectively solve our problem. Or, we don't trust him and we find another way. Either way, we have to think fast… we have only by sundown until the humans are expected to deliver their energy supplies to the location Megatron indicated. Somehow I don't think that's going to happen, so we need to be ready."

"It can't be as easy as just trusting a Decepticon. If he's lying, then we waste precious time thinking we might have an edge up when we really don't."

"It won't be easy, we'll still be fighting for our lives, and those of the humans around us. No one said that we'll come out on top of this even with any advantage presented us." Ratchet pointed out shrewdly. "But what do we lose if we trust this information? If he's lying then it's the same as if we didn't trust him. Let's use it, and make a backup plan in case it IS a trick."

Optimus sighed and nodded after a long moment. "We will go with this intel provided to us."

"What?!"

"Optimus, you can't!"

"This is nuts!"

"As a backup…" Optimus interrupted before too many could protest. "Glenn will continue working with the encryptions, and run any possible test on these access codes without triggering them to alert the Decepticons to our intents. If there is any way to verify this information, I want it done. Until then the only thing we can do is try and stall the Decepticons' frontal attack long enough for this to work. I would recommend that the governments of the affected areas start evacuating people just in case this goes terribly wrong."

"If it goes wrong Optimus, this whole planet will start to self-destruct slowly and surely." Will said solemnly. "The initial explosions will kill thousands, but the rest… well it won't be fast, it will take a long time, and there won't be anything we can do to stop it."

"I know." The Autobot commander said quietly. "But we will do anything within our power to stop it before it comes to that."


	48. Chapter 35: And So It Ends

**How it Is**  
**Chapter 35: And So It Ends**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

The residents of Mission City had been through one tough year.

First, their city had been the subject of an apparently random and quite violent terrorist attack.

Or so the government said.

Those who were unlucky enough to have been there that day knew better, of course. There had been FAR too many witnesses for the event to be covered up completely, try as they might.

Therefore when the image of a quite ugly robot appeared across every network across every channel, the residents of Mission City were the first to pack their bags.

They were NOT going to live through another incident like that again!

The majority of the public of course laughed it off as a strange joke. After all with what Hollywood could produce in visual effects these days, you could never trust anything on TV. Even your own eyes could be deceived.

However, the Earth governments did not take the threat as lightly.

"Optimus Prime is readying his forces at the provided co-ordinates for a full on assault with the enemy." John Keller was saying firmly to the gathered table of men in uniform and suits. No one spoke or laughed, no one suggested it was a sick joke. The air radiated with a tension that vibrated nervously amidst the world leaders and military generals. "As our people would merely draw attention to their attempt to take the Decepticons by surprise, we will instead be focusing on dealing with these bombs. Our goal is to secure the area around each location, then when the signal is given rush in and disable the bombs as quickly as possible and report back in ASAP. With hope these codes will give us access and the bomb threat will be eliminated."

"That solves one problem…" One of the generals spoke up seriously. "However we now are not only dealing with a hostile alien army mobilizing on American soil, but now the public has been directly notified."

"Most don't believe it."

"Some do. There has already been mass panicking in some places. I heard that Mission City is now a ghost town…"

"No one should be in danger for this operation." John Keller assured them. "We have less than five hours to mobilize troops at each location and evacuate any necessary civilians. Most evacuations have already begun. The attack co-ordinates are fortunately in Mission City, where most of the residents have already departed, and those who have not are being evacuated as we speak. No one will be allowed into the city, everyone will be forced to leave."

"Whole place should be condemned as a war zone." Muttered one of the generals. "Bad luck."

"John…" A soft spoken man at the end of the table silenced everyone at once. "What are the chances of this working?"

"To be honest Mister President… slim at best. We can only hope that the Autobots can prevail… we are simply bystanders in this war of theirs. It is out of our league."

"God help us."

* * *

The city was eerily quiet.

Not a car moved about the streets, a few loose newspapers tangled down the street free of distractions, and birds sang merrily, puzzled why all the humans were gone.

Slowly, an unusual conglomeration of vehicles turned the corner, moving slowly through the streets. At their lead, a large flame-painted semi-truck with no trailer, an enormous monster of a truck, a brightly painted rescue vehicle and two emergency vehicles. Behind them wove no less than eight fancy sports vehicles and two smaller bikes, both with no riders. Flying low above them weaving slowly between buildings was an enormous jet that looked as if it might be risking fate by trying to weave between the towering skyscrapers. The entire procession was quiet and slow, as if the vehicles were purposely attempting not to draw attention to themselves. After a moment, the semi-truck halted and paused idling in place for several long minutes before it's engine sputtered back to life and it took off down the street. The other vehicles followed, then began to split off in pairs down various side roads and streets, as the motley group broke apart. This left the brightly colored yellow Camaro idling as the small silver Suzuki SV650S pulled next to it.

Had there been any humans remaining in the city, they would have wondered if their ears were playing tricks on them, along with their eyes as both vehicles began to speak in low voices, both lacking drivers.

"I don't like this... It's so quiet... do you think this is a good idea, trusting the info from Starscream?" The motorcycle asked softly, it's small engine vibrating uncertainly. "It feels like a trap."

"I know." The Camaro replied in a low voice. "However given our options I think Optimus is doing the right thing in ordering us to be cautious... With hope, the Decepticons are unaware of Starscream's treachery in tipping us off... Their intent is to make the city their headquarters, and set up an example to the humans."

"I still don't believe they've gone this far as to expose everyone to the public! I mean, if people didn't believe them before, they will the moment all the cameras trained on this place start rolling. Did you SEE how many satellite trucks have their cameras pointed this way on the other side of the barricades?"

"Yes, Sam... but it is to be expected is it not? Humans are such a curious bunch… they seem oddly attracted to mass destruction."

"Call it morbid curiosity." He muttered quietly. "We're attracted to displays of power and strength, even if it's destructive."

"A curious attraction." The Camaro gunned it's engine as they slowly began to roll down the street through the buildings, patrolling their area. "I do not relish the idea of being noticed on this planet; I rather enjoy the anonymity."

"Yeah well... that might be over now." The Suzuki followed, weaving little patterns on the road as it zipped ahead and behind of the smaller sports car. "I think I'm getting the hang of this though... It's a bit weird not being able to turn my head, but it's kinda fun going so fast..."

"Indeed. When this is over I should show you how exhilarating it is to choose a larger alt form, Sam."

"You know... as much as I hate it, you're supposed to call me by my new nickname so the 'cons don't figure out it's me right away." Came the grumbling response. "I still think I should have gotten something...well... COOLER."

"Spike is a perfectly acceptable name for you. It fits your situation perfectly."

"Oh yeah, right..." Came the dry response. "Cause I'm just a power spike of unpredictability... come on, couldn't it have been Silverbolt, or Quicksilver or Speed Demon or something like that?"

"...your imagination is rather unique, Sam."

"Thanks... I think?"

"Do you honestly think that I have not had some reservations about being named 'Bumblebee'?"

"Huh... good point."

"I suggest you focus on practicing your tactics. As you are still new to your alt form, you do not want to be caught unaware in the middle of a battle."

"I think I've got the hang of transforming. I practiced with this one at least... the others... well... I guess adrenaline will help me when the time comes."

"We can only hope."

The two paused in the center plaza where a fountain spilled cheerfully over it's cement structure, splashing water onto the green grass around with small sparkles of light. The motorcycle simply parked casually against the curb, seeming innocuous amidst several other parked abandoned cars. The bright yellow Camaro however, stood out. "Dude... you need to really get a different paint job one of these days. For a spy, yellow is SO not the best color."

"I happen to LIKE yellow, Sam. Besides, to Decepticon scanners, it makes no difference what color you choose, they will still spot you on their radar."

"Point." Pause. "Think they'll spot me?"

"I don't believe so, at least those who are not sensitive to your power signature. Soundwave might detect you, as any others who are able to sense the Allspark's power. However as long as you cloak your power signature as you are doing now, they will not detect you right away."

"I hope so... otherwise this could go bad really fast."

"I would not let anything happen to you, Sam."

"It's not me I'm worried about pal..."

There was sudden silence as both of their scanners picked up telltale red blips. "They're here."

With a roar of engines above, three jets buzzed low over the towers above. Bumblebee slowly moved back into the shadows, more out of instinct than anything, as Spike quivered a bit on his wheels watching the three. Not long after the jet's roar, there was an earth shattering vibration of different engines... and a sleek silver jet that appeared it might fit better in the Star Wars universe than above the Nevada desert. Following the silver jet was an enormous shadowy form that spread darkness on the ground below as it passed over the sun. "Damn..." Whispered Sam softly. "That mofo is huge...and freaky."

"No argument there...wait which one?"

"Both."

They both fell silent as the roar of engines could be heard from the next street over. They both backed up into the ally and watched as a fleet of ground vehicles sped by them... far more than they had been expecting. A tank, several different construction vehicles, a few sports cars, a semi-truck, and as they watched, another roar of engines above more jets soared overhead, a different make than the others. "Christ..."

"Stay calm Sam..."

"But there's so many of them... I mean, geeze..."

"Strength in numbers does not automatically mean they will win. We must remain strong and true to our plan."

"Easy for you to say."

The two sat parked at the corner, watching as the group of vehicles all began to conglomerate in the center square they had just patrolled. From the corner of his optics, Sam could see a flash of yellow and red off to the side, as well as several more muted vehicles hiding quietly along side streets well back from the center of the plaza. It was astonishing what fleet of vehicles appeared before them. There were few that were as small as Bumblebee, and none as small as Sam that they could immediately see, however they also knew there were likely to be smaller mechs hidden in the larger ones. Nonetheless, the sheer bulk of the Decepticon forces sent shivers through their chassis. It looked like a huge road rally, parked right in downtown.

In one strange echoing sound of digitalization, every mech across the plaza began to transform out of their alt mode into their bipedal shapes, a myriad of twisting and rotation of parts, jets that landed amid mid-transformation on the buildings above, and enormous figures that stood as tall as some of the buildings alone.

And towering like a monolithic figurehead above them all, was none other than Megatron himself.

His wide grin was like a predator surveying his prey. "It seems..." He hissed in one low dangerous voice that reverberated through the open plaza. "...that we have guests..." There was a loud rumbling that could be identified as laughter echoing through the buildings. "Come out Prime... We won't attack fools who have no chance of prevailing against us." He slowly stalked around the obelisk that decorated the park's normally pristine environment, now dotted with large footprints and broken pavement. A flowerbed had the unfortunate mishap of being shattered beyond repair, flowers now part of the pavement.

For a moment, no one moved. Then slowly the low rumble of an engine emerged from some buildings as a semi-truck pulled out of the shadows and promptly transformed. Optimus Prime walked solemnly towards the gathered Decepticons, several other shapes taking up defensive positions behind him as Ironhide and Prowl flanked him with flat unreadable expressions.

"Megatron." Optimus' voice rang booming through the plaza.

"Prime." The response came, almost with a gleeful edge. "I should have expected you to anticipate our move... I am however impressed you managed to get rid of all the pathetic fleshlings for us... quite convenient, don't you think?" His dark crimson optics flashed dangerously. "Still... I long for a bit of fun..."

"Megatron, what reason do you have to destroy a planet merely for spite." Optimus was saying calmly. "This war is pointless now. The Allspark is no longer a tool to be used by warring factions. We can cease this pointless battle and return to build Cybertron back to it's former glory, united once more as we once were."

"Your pathetic ideas of peace amuse me, brother." Megatron spat with a clearly taunting tone. "Simply because the Allsparks' form has changed does not erase it's potential...I will make it mine again."

"I do not believe that is your choice any longer." Optimus said calmly. "The Allspark is no longer a mindless tool... it is a cherished treasure of our kind, now housed in an intelligent mind that has the ability to decide what to use it's power for. You cannot simply force your will upon it any longer, Megatron... as I am sure your communications officer can attest to."

Soundwave did not move, nor react to the words, all though his visor seemed to brighten slightly with crimson intensity.

"Sam wishes to aid us in rebuilding our home... he is willing to help us... Must we continue to battle for superiority when we can come to an agreement?"

"You think this is merely about our home world, Prime?" Megatron hissed. "You think that is ALL this is about? What a foolish naive outlook you have... this is not about repairing our world... our world is dead! This is about power... I am not satisfied in one dead world drained of resources... this is about control of the most significant entity in the universe... this is about conquest, domination, superiority in the universe, endless energy!"

"Is your greed the only thing that gives you pleasure?" Optimus murmured disheartened slightly by the vicious speech. "Is this all you crave?"

"Yes." Megatron smirked darkly. "It is the ultimate end to the war, it is inevitable Prime. I will not stop until I get what I want."

"And I cannot allow you to destroy innocent lives in the course of this reckless pursuit."

"As I anticipated. But do you REALLY wish to fight me Prime? Last time, you needed a BOY to help defend you..." He grinned darkly. "A boy who did me a GREAT favor by reversing that death sentence to myself and my army..." He gestured to the gathered Decepticons who chuckled darkly. "I must say I owe him my gratitude..." His optics swiveled about as if searching for the object of his discussion. However his search turned up empty given the lack of knowledge of Sam's new form, and instead was forced to glare back at Optimus. "So shall we get down to business? You are foolish enough to actually try to stop us, I assume?"

"Regretfully."

"So be it." Megatron hissed, his fingers twitching. "Let us get to it then... some of my soldiers are hungry for bloodshed."

"I loathe the necessity to commit to this, however I must stop you, Megatron."

"Bah...pathetic soft-hearted fool..." He snarled. "You are hardly worthy of being my opponent." With a dark sneer, he beckoned. "Come on Prime... let us have a re-match."

Prime stood tall, then in one loud voice he gave the order. "Autobots... roll out!"

The Decepticons all eagerly whirled about looking for their nearest target.. but to their surprise, all of the Autobots appeared to be vanishing one by one, leaving the area into the shadows and maze of buildings, even as Prime himself transformed and turned gunning through the street away from the gathering of mechs.

"PRIME! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Megatron howled in fury. "Get BACK here!"

"Sir..." Came a low hiss from above.

"WHAT, STARSCREAM, COULD POSSIBLY BE SO IMPORTANT YOU DELAY ME FROM MY PURSUIT!"

The Raptor's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he lifted a sharp claw to point skywards. "Incoming."

All optics turned skywards in time to see a massive shape plummeting towards them at high-speeds, deadly set on the plaza. Megatron's optics narrowed. "OPEN FIRE!"

Guns and cannons all pointed up at the sky, however the speed in which the Blackbird was diving at proved treacherous for any hit to strike... and even more so when they saw the large payloads mounted onto the bottom of his belly.

"SCATTER!" came an alarmed cry, as the jets took to the air in a flash, mechs began to flood towards the alleys and streets away from the center of the plaza... however, it was a nearly futile attempt, as two large missiles fell from their clamps when Skyfire released them and rocketed back skywards as fast as his engines could take him leaving the Decepticons as they attempted to scatter out of the way.

Unfortunately for some, there was a basic rule of physics they had ignored. When gathered in places where exits were narrow and limited, crowding said exists usually ended up in a traffic jam.

The explosion hit with complete silence, a brilliant flash of light that filled the entire city with a slowly growing brilliance that burned out retinas and damaged all the camera lenses pointed intently on the city from a mile away.

Then... the sound came.

It was a low rumbling boom that sent a bold shockwave out from it's source, shattering windows, blowing dust and dirt violently through the streets, and searing the entire area with intense heat that peeled back paint and melted anything without solid structure. A roar like a hurricane tore through the city as the Autobots crouched protectively out of the initial circle, waiting with offline optics and sensors as the maelstrom passed.

_Jesus._ Sam sent to Bumblebee, crouched hunched under his partner's larger frame as he protected the smaller body from being buffeted by the debris and wind. _You're SURE that's not a nuclear weapon?_

_Yes, Sam... Wheeljack and Skyfire ensured us there would be no long-lasting effects residual in the city... The damage will be extensive, however._

_I can't believe the feds okayed this…well I guess the destruction would be just as bad during the battle anyway… you think we actually took any of them out with that Energon weapon?_

_I cannot say... it's not been tested yet. I can only hope._

Slowly they un-shuttered their optics as the initial blast passed, the light fading and the wind dying down to leave only the abused scent of melted cement and plaster.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, the Decepticons attacked.

A loud roaring snarl filled their receptors as a dust covered figure bolted out of the white film that covered the buildings and lunged straight at them.

"Oh shit." Sam dove aside as the large black and violet mech dove straight at them and tackled Bumblebee full on. The Decepticon was easily twice the Scout's size, and about the same bulk and height as Optimus himself, but the snarling face of rage was deadly and furious. However, Bumblebee remained calm and composed. As the mech lunged at him, he took the hit and rolled back on his back, his cannon and feet both aimed upwards at the diving mech. A powerful shot slammed into the Decepticon's chassis and a powerful thrust of Bumblebee's legs made the Decepticons' momentum continue to take him up and over as Bumblebee rolled backwards onto his feet again. The Decepticon plunged into the nearest building back first with an earth shattering crash. Bumblebee was on his feet and diving towards the mech in a flash, cannon releasing blasts of blue light before the Decepticon even had a chance to rise to his feet. However the massive figure snarled and rolled over, standing to his full near twenty foot height as he snarled down at the smaller scout. In one flash of motion, an enormous cannon appeared as he slammed his fists together. But unlike Megatron's fusion cannon, this one had several very large fans that quickly began to spin at a high rate of speed, whirrs loudly sending a cacophony of vibrations through their audio receptors as it prepared to fire.

_Sam! Now, right into the barrel!_

Sam lifted his arms and focused intently as he too grasped his fists together. He had practiced this a few times since his transformation, and knew he could do it... aiming was another thing entirely. The metal combined and wrapped together in a fast moving clicking of motion and melding of fluid metal that reshaped into the small glowing blue energy-filled cannon at his control. As the fans of the black mech were spinning to critical speeds, he carefully aimed and then released the tremendous build-up of energy within his soul like lightning discharging from a cloud. The blue light slammed right into the Decepticon's wide barrel weapon and with a screech of words that Sam rather would not repeat to anyone, the mech stumbled back as the energy spread in crackling succession through his entire body melting metal and making his figure twist in unnatural ways, attempting to wrest the power out of him. Unfortunately, it didn't stop the weapon from firing, though it's aim was off as he stumbled backwards. A tremendous expulsion of pure air and wind blasted out from the cannon, slamming into the nearest building and shattering all the windows, taking a chunk out of the corner and sending debris raining down around them in a howl like a cyclone. However, the blast was short lived, and with a tremendous thud, the mech fell over backwards twitching, and did not rise again.

Sam let his arms fall apart from their cannon formation as the blue energy continued to dance around his fists, still heated with the power released. "Dude." He whispered. "The bigger they are..."

"Don't be too impressed." Bumblebee stood up slowly, dusting off some rubble from his shoulders. He had several deep gouges on his armor, but was otherwise unscathed. "He didn't appear to be that bright.. but he was all bulk."

"Know who he is?"

"No idea, he could be one of the new creations Starscream brought to life." The scout muttered, staring down at the large mech, whose foot twitched once more. "I don't think he'll be in this fight any longer. But we cannot hang around, we must go help the others."

"Right."

Optimus had been wise in pairing them back up together. Despite Bumblebee's lack of power in weaponry, he was quick and agile. He could take the enemy down, put them off guard long enough for Sam to send one single critical blast that would put them down for as long as they needed. While Sam still was not willing to kill the others if it wasn't necessary, his power allowed him to be able to inflict critical damage without killing. And now that Megatron was back and kicking, so to speak, he felt a little less guilty. Not that he'd been guilty about killing the biggest baddest mofo to rule the universe, but still killing someone wasn't an easy decision, and he'd only been a soldier for less than a year, if you considered he'd been out for some of it. Nonetheless, he knew if it came down to it, he COULD pull out the 'big guns' or rather... the complete lack of guns entirely, and that was what frightened him. He could take life with only a touch... such power was frightening. He much preferred fair battles.

The two of them rushed through the streets, leaving the fallen Decepticon behind. Not just around the next corner they came into contact with a very odd sight. Jazz was standing crouched as he watched an enormous tank approach him, rolling over a few cars that had been thoughtlessly left parked on the side of the street. Behind the tank Wheeljack was eyeing the Decepticon with what appeared to be a fascinated expression. "Jazz." Bumblebee joined the saboteur as he briefly risked a glance their way. "I see you're handling things well."

"Man, this is one guy you don't want to mess with." The second lieutenant said, sounding amused. "He dropped from the sky."

"What?"

"He was a jet... now he's a tank. Fraggin' cool if you ask me."

"They can DO that?" Sam sputtered, staring at the tank in disbelief. "I thought you guys could only do one form at a time..."

"Apparently the rules have changed a bit. I'd heard rumors of these guys, called triplechangers. Trouble with a capital T, pun intended."

Without warning, the tank fired directly their way. The three scattered as the blast slammed inches away from their heads into a building wall. However at the same time, Wheeljack leapt into the air, bright fire coming from both arms as miniature launchers propelled him airborne. "Hey there pal, don't look up!" He said cheerfully as with a twist mid-air, he pivoted his body and fired two blasts of light from his shoulders, directly down onto the tank below.

"Huh?" The tank managed an intelligent response as something that sounded like metal against metal clanged against his hull. "Was that supposed to tickle?" The Decepticon snorted, and then began to transform as Wheeljack landed beside the other three.

"That didn't do much, Jack." Jazz said dryly. "I though that it'd be a bit more... showy... especially coming from you."

"Wait for it."

They all did so, and as the tank finished transforming into a very odd conglomeration of tank and jet parts for his bipedal mode, he abruptly stumbled and staggered towards a building to their right, almost in a drunken weave. "You see Spike..." Wheeljack said as Jazz and Bumblebee moved in for the chance to take him down. "Decepticons are entirely too predictable. They only think about one thing when fighting: Brute Force. Bigger weapons, stronger armor, bashing and pounding things... they never think about more creative solutions."

"So what'd you do to him?"

"I simply attached a probe that transmits a micro electric current against his cranium, and scrambles the equilibrium center of his central processor."

"So you threw off his balance?"

"Well you cannot shoot straight when everything is spinning around you."

"Good point. You're a genius."

"Thank you!"

There was a loud crash as several well placed cannon blasts had the tank plane thing down in a hurry. What they didn't finish off, Jazz and Bee completed as the mech fell silent and unmoving.

"Is it just me, or is this way too easy."

"It's just you." Jazz said somberly. "We got the easy ones..." He glanced over his shoulder. "Split up and get movin'. There's more out there to take down."

Jazz wasn't kidding. All across the city miniature battles were taking place. Optimus' plan was to break them up into smaller groups to take down their enemy by using their individual unique tactics. While this meant it might be more difficult in the long run as there were more Decepticons, it also gave them the ability to fight in their element using their own tactics. Additionally, their initial attack had done the job in pissing the Decepticons off and weakening their armor. They had even permanently off-lined no less than three Decepticons in the initial strike, which was better than they'd expected. Information was flying through the air wirelessly as body counts rose.

Unfortunately, the casualties were on both sides.

Their first notification that they had a problem was a brief burst from Ratchet. _Sam, I need you here NOW._

Without waiting for backup, Sam moved into action twisting into his bike form and zipping through legs of dueling mechs to quickly maneuver to the medic's location. His first and primary function was to help Ratchet if someone got critically hurt. That was their biggest advantage, he could heal serious injuries and get their warriors back fighting whereas the Decepticons were forced to retreat if injured. But there was a fine line between getting a mech to hang onto life and getting there in time to save him.

By the time Sam arrived on the scene of the fight, he saw the aftermath was gruesome at best. There were spare parts littering across the narrow street, big chunks of limbs hacked off, and standing there panting in exhaustion was a blue splattered Sunstreaker with a murderous glare in his cyan optics. Sam almost found out the hard way what the poor Decepticon had gone through as he pulled up, for Sunstreaker lashed out with a vicious scream of rage, energized blade slamming inches away from his tires as he skidded to a halt, and stared up in shock at the once-yellow Lamborghini.

"Sunstreaker!" Ratchet snapped irritably. "What are you DOING?! Get over here now!"

The mech blinked, and finally recognition snapped into his optics as Sam transformed and darted around the blade. "Sorry." He muttered distractedly, lifting the sword from the ground and sliding it back into his body somewhere as he mutely turned around and approached Ratchet's position. Sam automatically winced. Sideswipe was in bad shape. Ratchet was already working on capping off the Energon leaking all over the ground, ignoring the missing arm that was a few feet away. The chest area of the red twin had been torn apart in a shredded mess of twisted metal and melted chassis. Sam knew at one glance that his spark was sputtering, but holding firm. However it was clear it wouldn't remain that way for long. He quickly scrambled up onto Sideswipe's chest and placed his hands flat on the mech's scratched paint. "You can fix him, right?" came the half-hearted mutter from his shoulder, and Sam risked a glance to see Sunstreaker displaying a very unusual trait. His optics were wide and worried, deeply so. It was after all, his brother.

"Yeah, don't worry."

"Yo... bro..." Came a weak voice from below his palms as Sam glanced down at Sideswipe. The twin was grinning, though his optics glowed faintly. "Two..."

"No." Sunstreaker said with a sudden flash of annoyance. "I'm up by three."

"Nuh uh. Two."

"Fragger."

"You know it."

Sam grinned and shook his head, and let the power flow out of his core into the injured twin. Before their eyes, metal began to mend, parts sprung back into place, and paint unpeeled and returned to it's unblemished state. Ratchet thoughtfully brought the missing limb close for re-attachment, which helped save a bit of energy on Sam's part. After a few moments, he leaned back with a sigh, feeling suddenly drained. Two big expenditures in a short time was not his usual forte, but he knew it had to be done. He jumped back as Sideswipe sat up and squinted at his armor. "Damn... you are QUITE handy."

"You know it." Sam grinned wickedly, mimicking him. "That's one YOU owe ME."

"Hey! No fair!"

Sunstreaker merely snorted, a smirk on his face.

"Get going both of you. And for Primus' sake, DON'T make me come fix you again!" Ratchet waved his saw threateningly. "Sam is busy enough without looking after your afts!"

"Yes sir!"

The two sped off as Ratchet shook his head and gave Sam a grateful smile. "Good job. You'd better come with me, I just got word from Skyfire that he's taken a hit, not sure how serious it is, but he's hemmed in."

"Right." Ratchet transformed, and to save time Sam merely jumped inside his interior without transforming on his own, and they roared through the streets with siren full tilt. "How are you holding up, Sam?" The medic asked tensely as they wove through buildings, following paths of destruction from various battles.

"I'm doing good actually. A bit tired, but so far so good."

"Good. I do not want you straining yourself too much. I realize that it is a lot to ask, but I must insist you do not go overboard again."

"Don't worry Ratch... I think I'm not the one handling most of what's happening around here this time, I'm just backup."

"Indeed."

"How much longer you think?"

"I am not certain. Optimus is the one who will give the signal. He is... occupied at the moment."

"One angry ugly guy in need of dental work?"

"Precisely."

"Got it."

However, their lighthearted jaunt ended the moment Ratchet tore around another corner and they saw a very chilling sight. Skyfire was laying flat on his back, one wing scorched and with a full on hole through the fuselage, and above him glaring murderously were the trio of Seekers. As Ratchet appeared, Thundercracker and Skywarp whipped around and immediately stepped forward, cannons lifted and aimed directly at the Hummer as it screeched to a stop. "Oh shit." Sam said meekly as he watched the bright glows begin to power their weapons in tandem.

"Slaggit!" Ratchet sounded on the verge of panic as his wheels spun wildly in an attempt to back out of the way before the blasts were released. Unfortunately, the brilliant twin shots of light left the barrels of their cannons while Ratchet was in the middle of his warning cry. Abruptly the bright searing light surrounded them both as the medic's cry of alarm was drowned out by the howl of the weapons tearing apart the ground they stood on. The wind whipped around them, fragments of stone and asphalt slicing like glass through paper across the ground… However as the blast slowly cleared and the two seekers were able to see their quarry, the sight that met their eyes was indescribable. Ratchet was sitting parked just where they'd left him, a shimmering blue wall of light encasing him, protecting him and the ground around them as within a smaller figure sat rigidly, optics lit more brilliant than any normal mechanism would allow, a shimmer of light rippling across his frame as the barrier dissolved with rivets of electricity crackling through the air.

Ratchet for one was a bit startled to find himself in one piece, and had to run a diagnostic to be doubly sure he wasn't hallucinating. Within his interior, Sam let out a shaky sigh and slumped back in the plush seat, electric pulses rushing through him like adrenaline. "Hot damn." He whispered breathlessly. "That was fraggin' close."

"You can say that again." Ratchet murmured, a bit of awe in his voice betraying his normally calm façade.

"What the hell is he doing?"

The question brought Ratchet's awareness back to the trio of trouble in front of them. The two seekers were staring warily at him, cannons still out, but they made no further move to attack, merely standing as sentries as their wing leader was apparently giving a solid angry chewing out to Skyfire, who looked positively baffled, and not the least bit worried, despite the fact he was clearly wounded and at a disadvantage. The sharp hissing stream of vocalizations in Cybertronian came across clearly at the volume that Starscream was screeching at the prone Blackbird. "…fraggin' idiot you are, I should simply blow you out of the sky and be done with you! But NO for some reason I keep telling myself you'll be USEFUL some day… I don't know why I bother…the past is over and done with, finished! We are warriors now, fighters in a glorious cause that will see our names etched into the writs of history forever!"

"Yet… you still sent us that information." Skyfire said quietly. "Why did you do that, Starscream? Betray your own faction? Surely not out of some misguided thought that you might be doing the right thing? I wondered if it could be possible anymore for you to feel that kind of empathy after all the things I've heard you've done."

"Bah, don't be sentimental, fool. I'm not that little sniveling coward you once knew." The Raptor snorted in mirth. "I only did it for one reason. To PISS him off." He smirked widely at the expression on Skyfire's face. "My own agenda is just that, my own. I care little else for what 'Mighty Megatron' has in store, so long as I get the credit I deserve and NOT him."

"Oh really?" came a dark voice from behind them. Instantly both seekers keeping watch balked and their gazes lifted to the building above. Ratchet didn't have to look to know who it was, and slunk down on his wheels a bit, trying to back up slightly to avoid becoming involved in an in-fight between Decepticon forces. It didn't seem to matter however, as there was a mighty shake of the ground behind them as Megatron leapt down to take up position behind Ratchet and Sam.

_We are SO slagged._

_Prime, where the FRAG are you!?_

_On my way, hold tight… he lost me back there…_

"It interests me to not only seeing you hesitating in eliminating the enemy, Starscream, but failing to take out another weaker opponent by wasting time with idle chit-chat…" Megatron's voice was dark and dangerous, as soft as velvet, and deadly as a sharpened blade. "Yet here you go and reveal precious information that I find quite interesting… feeding the enemy secrets now are we? My my, your loyalties have NO boundaries."

The Air Commander had frozen in place at Megatron's arrival and was glaring hatefully at him, but did not back down nor flinch at the obvious threat in his tone. "This command should be MINE!" he hissed darkly, though he did not dare raise a weapon against his superior. "But then you come back to life because of that little glitch of a human!" He snarled, his gaze not leaving Megatron's. "There's less loyalty in the Decepticon ranks these days than a pack of energon hungry mercenaries!"

"You seem not to be able to handle the mantle of leadership…" Megatron said darkly, still not moving towards the object of his wrath, a tell-tale bad signal Sam abruptly realized. He wanted a bit of distance from his officer, distance to fire… "…if Decepticon soldiers who follow my instructions explicitly refuse to follow YOUR orders."

Starscream merely hissed something too low to be heard. Megatron's optics flashed. "Thundercracker, Skywarp. Stand aside."

"Sir…?"

"Do it NOW."

The two Seekers nervously exchanged glances but reluctantly moved to the side, their lives more important at the moment than protecting their commander from his own foolish decisions. "Now, Starscream. I give you one chance to redeem yourself." Megatron purred smoothly, his optics intently glaring at his commander, ignoring the two Autobots at his feet, and the approach of several new signals that had just popped up on the radar of everyone nearby. "Seeing as you have an Autobot so conveniently at your mercy… finish the job."

Sam had been in the process of slowly opening Ratchet's door, in preparation for the need to move out of the way suddenly if the medic had to transform abruptly. However, as he gazed at the scene, he noticed the look of shock and alarm pass over the Air Commanders' face as if Megatron had just ordered him to murder his best friend.

_But that's it, isn't it?_ Sam thought to himself, watching the identical look of horror on Skyfire's own face. _They were friends before the war… best friends. And despite the radically different loyalties and outlooks in life, they still have a bond of sorts… That's why Starscream didn't kill him, and stopped to talk to him. That's why he gave him the information, because he knew he could trust him._

The expression of loathing and anger on Starscream's face mixed with that emotion of a bond being forced out from under him clearly tore at his processor as he struggled to make a decision. He obviously knew what would happen if he refused, not only would he be showing his lack of loyalty for not following Megatron's orders, but proving himself unwilling to kill an enemy soldier… A traitor who would feel the end of Megatron's fusion cannon at near point blank range, a blast sure to kill him. Not only that, it would take Skyfire along with him at this close proximity, or the leader would simply fire again and destroy him anyway. It was a no-win situation in either respect.

"You refuse to answer me, Starscream." Came the dark whisper. "I am not surprised."

"No, Megaton…" The seeker ground out hesitantly. "We could use him as a hostage… he has knowledge that…"

"ENOUGH, TRAITOR!" Megatron howled, slamming both fists together as the morphing weapon materialized in front of him with a shifting of parts and heating of fusion core, a weapon that began to send rippling waves of feedback around him as he prepared to fire. "If you disobey my orders, you will PAY the consequence!"

Starscream tensed, optics flashing brightly in horror as the barrel of the cannon leveled with his chassis. In that split second, everyone could see the indecision tugging at the normally brutal and unrelenting Air Commander as he stood between his friend and his own life. But try as he might, the decision could not be reached in the mere seconds it took for Megatron to power up his weapon.

With a wicked smirk of satisfaction, he fired.

The shot sizzled through the air like white-hot lightning and impacted straight into the base of the nearest building with a loud clap of thunder, sending spider web cracks racing up through the entire structure.

Megatron's expression was completely blank as he stared at the blackened twisted mass of metal before him, still smoking from the blow that Sam had released directly into his cannon at the moment he'd fired, giving the shot enough wild edge to completely miss the two mechs he'd been aiming at.

No one moved, though Sam smirked in satisfaction moments before burning red optics snapped down to furiously bore into him with murderous intent. His smile vanished. "Maggot…" Megatron hissed venomously, his entire form quivering in rage. "I will crush you like a BUG!"

_Oh crap._

That was when the attack came from both sides.

He made no sound as he charged, taking Megatron completely by surprise as a vibrating Energon blade slammed down into one shoulder. Optimus Prime had launched himself off the building behind the Decepticon leader, and buried the blade clear down to the hilt, the same time two precise cannon blasts slammed into Megatron's chest from the opposite building as Ironhide let out a challenging stream of curses. Megatron howled in surprise and pain as his head whipped around to glare furiously at his brother, his arms untwining and forming back into his separate limbs, albeit very obviously damaged, wires and structure melted on the outside supports.

"Spike, move!" Ratchet hissed, transforming in a hurry as suddenly the ground became an extremely dangerous place to be as the two mechs began a furious struggle as Megatron attempted to free himself from Prime's blade.

"Where?!" Sam demanded, looking wildly around and only seeing one avenue of escape, which happened to be towards one of those dangerous Decepticons that was trying to kill them.

However, Starscream's expression as he stared down at the smaller mech was unreadable, his optics burning in a furious hatred suddenly. "You!" He hissed. Sam blinked warily up at him, aware that the other two seekers were still hanging nearby, but seemed unwilling to become involved. "Why did you just do that?! Are you unstable?!"

Sam frowned. "Dude, I just saved your sorry aft and that's the thanks you have?"

Starscream's optics narrowed angrily as his voice lifted to an even more painful octave. "I owe you nothing! You only did it to save your friend!"

"Well… yeah." Sam admitted blinking. "But in so doing…"

"NO!" The Decepticon hissed angrily, his form shaking in fury. "I owe you NOTHING!" And in a sudden snarl of anger, he twisted in mid-air and tore into the sky, after burnings sending ripples of heat down on them all. His wing mates hesitated a moment, but were not long to follow, taking to the sky before Ironhide could fire off any shots in their direction.

Skyfire simply watched them go, an odd expression on his face, before he turned back to Sam. "I at least am mech enough to admit that I owe you my life. Thank you."

"It's nothing." Sam said awkwardly, quickly approaching and putting his hands on the mech's torn wing as Ratchet began to do a quick diagnosis to see if anything else critical was damaged.

"And I think… saving Starscream's life might be worth it in the long run."

"How do you figure?" Ratchet growled. "We would all be better off without him."

"His pride won't let him have someone hold a life debt over him like that." Skyfire smiled in amusement. "Believe it or not, traitor or not, he does have honor somewhere still in there. And owing his life to someone, well let's just say it won't sit well with him and he's going to drive himself nuts trying to find a way to get out of it."

Sam grinned a bit. "Well… that might come in handy."

"You never know." Skyfire said thoughtfully, then lowered his voice. "And I thank you for stopping Megatron from eliminating him… I still have unfinished business to discuss with Starscream."

"Being friends with that traitor will bring you nothing but trouble." Ratchet warned.

"One does not pick one's friends, Ratchet." Skyfire said quietly. "They come to you."

"You have an odd choice in friends, my high-flying comrade." The medic shook his head but patted him on the shoulder. "You're in good shape it seems. They weren't aiming to kill you were they." He said shrewdly.

"No… they weren't." Skyfire admitted with a small smile.

"Watch it, incoming!" Came an alarmed warning from Ironhide as he jumped off the building he'd been crouched on, landing beside the gathered forces as his head twisted to the side to see several more Decepticons spill into the street nearby.

_Autobots, retreat to the plaza._ Came the sudden abrupt order from Optimus.

"What?" Ironhide blinked in surprise, twisting his head to watch the two leaders still locked in their struggle.

"He's got a plan." Ratchet growled out. "Move it!"

"Sam." Skyfire lowered an arm, and the smaller mech scrambled on board, clinging to the armor around his shoulder as the massive Autobot swiftly began to head towards the plaza, the two others at his heels running to keep up with his large steps.

The plaza was definitely not the same place they had gathered earlier…

No more did green lush landscape cover the park, no more flowers, and the monolith that had stood as an ancient reminder of the city's art history was nothing more than dust in the destroyed city center. Sam's fans sputtered in surprise as he stared out at the massive example of destruction. Most of the buildings had been completely obliterated, and those that hadn't were only shells of the proud structures they had once been. The bomb that they had dropped had it's devastating effect. Sam felt a cold twist of pain to his spark seeing what they had done. Destroying buildings as a result of battle was one thing, but a pre-emptive strike, as important as it had been, still had it's price. Thankfully no one had been in the city… still, there would be no covering up THIS.

From all sides, battles were being directed into the plaza. Sam could see the familiar bright paint jobs of the twins as they sent dual blasts at four Decepticons roughly their size who were viciously fighting with gleeful expressions, keeping them busy, with ironically the support of the agile tactician backing them up. Both sides had apparently scored hits, but were not disabled enough to stop fighting.

Jazz, Wheeljack and Bumblebee were tangled up with three others, only one of which Sam recognized at first sight as the ugly 'con that had messed up the freeway when he'd tangled with Optimus during their first battle. The other two were massively built, one quite tall in addition, and packing some serious firepower.

And on the other side of the plaza came a smattering of bright explosions and blasts as a tall dark figure emerged stumbling backwards out of the ally pursued by all five femmes. On one hand, he seemed to be having difficulty retaliating against such dogged opponents, but Soundwave was far from alone as Ravage snarled viciously and lunged at Arcee taking her down with a shower of sparks against stone. The four femmes standing all seemed to be fighting to stay on their feet as some kind of vibrations were disrupting the stability of the ground. Behind them the six construction vehicles were engaged in keeping them busy dodging as they threw insults in addition to punches.

And finally, still furiously fighting in a class of steel against steel, Megatron and Optimus came spinning into the plaza in a complicated dance of death, ducking blows to each other. Megatron snarled angrily as Optimus' blade skidded down his injured arm, blue sparks flying everywhere with a grinding of metal that would make nails on a blackboard seem tame. "Prime… you are a fool. You think you have the upper hand?" He snarled, backing up a few feet to warily pace his enemy in a circle, other eyes straying to watch the battling faction leaders between blows of their own. Skyfire and Ironhide had already split off to assist the femmes, and Ratchet was maintaining his duty as protector while the rest were busy fighting. Sam watched with tense anticipation, uncertain where to watch. There was so much going on at once.

"I believe that the odds are even, Megatron." Optimus growled out as he thrust the deadly mace away with his sword. "Last I counted… you are down five…"

"You forget, Prime…" Megatron hissed with a dark glower. "I hold the upper hand yet." He threw his head back and snarled something to the sky, a bone chilling series of warbles and tones. Behind him, Soundwave's head rotated minutely and dipped. Megatron laughed coldly. "Your pathetic humans will soon be nothing more than a memory, Prime! You have lost!"

Optimus merely remained steady, his battle mask betraying nothing of his expression. However when Megatron's head whipped around in a livid snarl, Optimus' eyes lifted with a slight indication of a smile. "Something wrong, Megatron?"

"WHAT have you done!?"

"You did not expect us to simply lay down and let you carry out your plan, did you?"

Megatron snarled angrily at his opponent, form quivering with rage. "HOW did you break the codes?!"

"We have our ways. It's not too late to stop this madness, Megatron. Stop this pointless battle and unite with us. We can rebuild our home together."

Megatron simply snorted in disbelief. "Really Prime, do you expect me to give up that easily?" With a twist of his shape, he transformed and leapt into the air, fleeing from his dual and then transforming again as he hovered in mid-air above the center of the plaza. "DECEPTICONS." He boomed loudly. "Plan B!"

"Plan B…?" Sam winced. "Damn it.. why don't WE have a Plan B?!"

"Disabling the bombs WAS our plan B." Ratchet groaned.

"Who's brilliant idea was THAT?!" Sam slammed a hand to his forehead. "We need a Plan C!"

"I'm open to suggestions!"

Everywhere around the plaza, things were happening. Several of the Decepticons had broken off from their battles, others had not. As the fighting Autobots dodged their enemy's weapons fire, all optics managed to find their way to something peculiar that was happening. On one side of the plaza, the construction vehicles had all gathered in one place, Soundwave keeping the femmes busy enough between Ravage, Rumble and Frenzy. On the other side of the plaza, Sam was furious to see, the tall black and violet mech they'd taken down first had somehow shaken off his attack and stumbled out between the buildings. He effortlessly ignited his Cyclone cannon taking both twins by surprise as their backs were turned, dispelling them from the other four 'cons they had been fighting and back handing Prowl into the nearest wall as he moved forward.

And then…

Sam blinked in astonishment as something extraordinarily awesome and twice as fearsome began to happen. The gathered groups of Decepticons began to transform as one… but instead of taking to their alt forms, arms grasped arms as they twisted and melded together to form an intricate combination of parts that slowly assembled not into two teams, but into two single tall figures created from the combining efforts of the individuals.

"Holy…"

"Primus…"

Megatron merely smirked down at the startled Autobots as all optics were focused on the two massive towering mechs that now stood eye-level with himself, a good building's height tall. "Congratulations Prime. You've forced my hand. Allow me to introduce you to a new project of mine that we've been working on. Quite an achievement if I do say so…"

The remaining Decepticons had broken off their attacks and joined their large companions, all looking smug and proud at the turn of events. The Autobots were all nervously gathered in one place, staring in disbelief at the monstrosities before them, horror and fear reflected upwards. "How on Cybertron are we going to take those guys down!?" Sideswipe gawked in alarm. For once, Sunstreaker had no wise comeback, and merely stared up at the two with an unreadable expression.

Bumblebee's vents were panting out hot air as he shuffled up to Sam, a weary but bright eyed ferocity in his optics as he exchanged gazes with his partner, before they both returned to staring at the two combined units towering over them. "Slag." Jazz muttered quietly, for once somber and without a smart remark. "Prime?"

"I have never before seen such abilities…" Optimus murmured, his voice heavy. "I underestimated Megatron…"

There was a heavy silence as Megatron's laughter rang out through the rubble. "I will still accept your surrender, Prime." His shining silver armor still speckled with dents and dust from his battle with Optimus glittered as brightly as his burning optics as he gazed down upon the hopeless expressions of the Autobots below. "Surrender the Allspark now, and I might simply take my men and leave. You can HAVE this pathetic planet… I care naught for it."

Sam's jaw tightened. "Like hell." He muttered. "Optimus… should I try to…"

"No, Sam." Optimus said heavily, a stern glance down at his small ward. "I know for certain attempting to take on the entire Decepticon force on your own will only end in disaster if you attempt to expend too much energy at once. In addition…it would not be fair."

"Fair?!" Sunstreaker sputtered angrily. "Who CARES about fair! If we can stop them, let's DO it!"

"No." Optimus said firmly, his posture tall and commanding, but his shoulders slightly drooping with weight. "I refuse to compromise Sam's life, even to defeat our enemies."

"Then…what do we do?"

"The only thing we can do." Ironhide growled in a low uncomfortable voice.

"We cannot surrender." Optimus said quietly. "Our mission is to keep Megatron from taking Sam and abusing his abilities. Surrender would achieve nothing more than to simply hand him over without further bloodshed."

"But if we fight those things…" Ratchet said darkly. "They'll still get their hands on Sam, over our dead bodies."

"I'll go." Sam said firmly, startling everyone. "I'll surrender."

"What? No!" Bumblebee protested sharply, his optics widening in alarm as he lifted his battle mask to stare incredulously down at his charge.

"Look, if I go then he'll leave Earth, he'll leave you guys and everyone else alone." Sam said firmly, lifting his head upwards to stare at his friends and comrades. "There's no other way out of this without everyone laying down their lives, and in the end I'll end up his prisoner anyway. If I go now we can stop the bloodshed before it starts."

"Sam, under no condition can I in good faith let you walk into enemy hands. That would negate everything we have been fighting for." Optimus said firmly, his optics sharp and determined as they stared down at the small avatar who held so much power within him. "Despite our odds, despite our chances, if you are to willingly surrender to Megatron he will not treat you any different than if he had captured you himself. You will be used to create armies that will wreak devastation on other worlds, not just here. For eventually Megatron will return to Earth and take it as his own, even should he honor his agreement to leave if you surrender to him. In the end, it will mean more destruction for the entire universe, dooming innocent worlds yet to be caught up in our feud. Even should we lay our lives down to die in the end, I will not allow him to take you, nor allow you to surrender yourself to his power as long as there is a spark burning in my body. To do so would compromise all that we stand for, negate all the sacrifices we have fought to get to this point, and betray all those who have helped us reach this place. No Sam. We will fight. May Primus protect us until the end, but we WILL fight."

There was a loud roar from the others at this final statement, and Sam looked around in bewilderment to see a fierce fire of determination burning in all his friend's optics. A fire of battle, of pride, of honor. They too would not simply lay down and take the easy road out, no matter who offered it. A growing sense of awe began to fill his spark as he gazed into the familiar faces gathered around him. What a fool he'd been to think that he could simply betray their support and trust! Optimus was right. They HAD to fight! He stood straighter and with a firm nod voiced his agreement.

As one, the Autobots turned to face their opponents once more. The Decepticons were lined up at the two Combiners' feet, weapons armed and ready, faces set with glee and bloodthirsty expressions of victory. Megatron simply smirked smugly down at them from between the two massive mechs. "Well?" He asked silkily. "Have you decided to lay down your arms and save yourself the trouble?"

"Never, Megatron." Optimus spoke firmly.

The smile that slowly spread across the Decepticon's features was a hungry look of a predator. "Excellent."

There was no order given, no single shot that set them off. However as one, the Decepticons and the Autobots faced off to stare at each other across the plaza, and with howls of battle rage, they tore across the rubble as one unified group. Metal met with metal, cannons released deadly shots into the crowds both ways, as Cybertronian screeching war cries vibrated through the air. Not one held back, not one hesitated. Sam lunged into the fray with as much fury as he could muster, letting his innate skills guide him to retaliate as he'd been trained. No more hesitation, no more doubts. He knew that any amount of hesitation would be the last feeling he experienced, and so he threw himself in with a fervor of determination. They HAD to win. They just HAD to. The entire existence of humanity depended on them winning and stopping the Decepticons. He would NOT be used as a tool.

At first, the battle was furious and well matched. But then, things went terribly wrong.

Megatron had waited to allow the two Combiners to engage them. Instead, he watched with amusement as his men battled furiously, short numbered against the determined Autobots. However, after Soundwave took a solid hit to the chest thanks to a well-aimed shot from Ironhide, he raised his hand and pointed. "Stunticons, Constructicons. Attack."

A blast of power unlike anything they had seen from any mech, even Megatron himself exploded into the center of the warriors. Screams of alarm and pain rang out from both sides as bodies went flying in all directions, helpless before the enormous raw energy pumping out from the combined units. Sam managed to skid to a stop on his feet after being helplessly flung through the air. His lighter bulk made it easier to adapt to the sheer force of the throw, landing not quite gracefully, but avoiding a painful collision with the building next to him. "Holy…" He gasped, glancing around as everywhere Autobots were picking themselves up in stunned astonishment. A groan to his right made him quickly kneel at Prowl's side. "You ok?"

"Lovely." The tactician said dryly, pushing himself to one knee, a gash leaking energon in his side. Sam didn't hesitate in tending to it as the mech scanned the wreckage. "That kind of power is incredible… How do they generate the amount of force needed?"

"I don't know man." Sam said quietly, staring back as the Autobots all warily held positions further away from the monsters. "How can we even hope to stand against THAT?" A loud feral bellow echoed through the shattered buildings as the other monster mech slammed both fists into the nearest structure, cleaving it clear in two without so much as flinching as he tore the top halves of the building off, and stepped over the rest of the rubble.

"Sam.. I realize this may not be what you want to hear…" Prowl said in a low voice. "However I do not believe we can win this fight." Sam shot him a glare, surprised that the tactician would be so frank with him about their fate, especially after the speech Optimus had given. "You must go."

"What?!"

"You must flee while you can. Run, avoid them for as long as you can, hide from them. You MUST not let them find you."

"I can't just LEAVE you all." Sam said fiercely, his optics burning angrily with defiance as he stared at the Autobot second in command in defiance. "I won't abandon the fight!"

"If you remain, then they will have you." Prowl said fiercely in return, the powerful strength of emotion backing his voice, a rare trait for the normally stoic mech. Sam froze in surprise, staring at the tactician in surprise as the optics flickered darker to a violet hue. "If I have to take you away from here myself, I WILL." Sam took a reflexive step back. "Bumblebee!" Prowl snapped sharply, optics sliding to the side where the yellow scout limped into view. He froze and turned to stare their way, his cannon out in preparation for battle, but the scores on his armor telling of the injuries he'd received. Everyone was in bad shape by now. "Take Sam and run." He ordered firmly. "Go as far as you can. Hide your signatures and lay low."

Bumblebee stood in silence, frozen at the orders he had just been given by his superior. "What?" He rasped out sharply.

"You heard me." Prowl grabbed Sam by the arm, dragging the smaller figure after him as he shoved him towards the scout. "GO!"

"Bee, no!" Sam snapped. "I won't leave!"

"You MUST!"

"Prowl, wait no!" A new voice called from down the street as the sleek silver and fuchsia figure of Elita One came sliding around the corner followed by her squad of elite fighters. Part of her audio receptors had snapped off and there were numerous gouges and carbon scores marking her body, but she stood tall and formidable as she quickly approached the three. "Don't give up just yet. Look." She smiled knowingly, and lifted her head skywards.

Puzzled, Sam followed her gaze along with the others, and his spark sputtered in sudden exhilaration at the sight.

Science fiction writers and Hollywood producers had the concept of space ships all wrong. The romantic idea of smooth hulled crafts with the ability to maneuver easily through asteroids, descend to the surfaces of planets and doge laser fire is something that clearly Cybertronian engineers had no use for. They built ships for practicality.

THIS ship was built for one thing.

It was a warship.

Like a descending shadow of death, the sun abruptly was hidden from view, immediately drawing the attention of all the warriors below. The ship was easily the size of the entire Mission City metro area, it's wide flat belly pitted and scored with battle scars, dents of large asteroid impacts and scrapes from collisions with comets. The low rumbling of the engines had been quiet at first, but as it descended lower to the surface, the deep throated vibrations of the enormous propulsion engines set off on one end made the entire ground tremble like a violent quake, tremors traveling through each mech's metal exoskeleton and making the very air around them reverberate and undulate. As all the upturned optics watched in stunned silence, the loud clicking of metal against metal sounded as cracks opened in the under belly of the craft, and with a sharp grinding and hissing of turbines, no less than twenty fully armed cannons descended and cocked into place, trained directly on the frozen Decepticons as high-pitched whines filled the air with the sound of heating power coils.

A single loud voice boomed across the city, reverberating as loud as the engines, and sending thrills of glee into Sam's spark.

"Decepticons. Surrender."

The expression on Megatron's face was nothing short of hilarious. A twisted mesh of rage, hatred and panic flashed over his features as he stared upwards in silence at the ship hovering mere feet away from the tallest of the still standing buildings. With a snarl of rage, he transformed in mid-air and gunned his engines, rocketing off at top speeds twisting low through the buildings to avoid any fire the ship might have launched. Seeing their leader flee, the Decepticons had no reason to remain when faced with an opponent that they could not possibly bring down. Even the two Combiners turned quickly after hesitating for a moment, wondering perhaps if they could reach a turret or two and disable them before they were taken down. However, they seemed to realize the futility of such an action, split apart into their separate units and vanished amidst the buildings as fast as their wheels could take them.

As the gathered Autobots watched, the battle was over in one single bloodless effort, the Decepticons turning tail and fleeing without a single shot fired in retaliation.

Sam felt a weak shaky feeling spread through his legs, watching as the jets and cars tore as fast as they could through the city, while no one pursued them. "…we're just going to let them go?"

"They won't get far." Elita One said with a smile. "Military forces from five countries are currently surrounding the city, armed with your specially altered weapons that can melt our armor."

"Wow…" Sam whispered before lifting his head skywards. "…that… is… just cool."

The Autobots limped back to the central plaza once more, but this time despite their exhaustion and injuries, they held themselves high and proud. As Sam joined the rest and gazed upwards at the enormous underbelly of the ship, he was eerily reminded of a movie he once saw… this however was radically different… THESE were the good guys.

The Autobots were all gathering in the plaza under what appeared to be the center of the ship. Optimus was standing tall, mask retracted to show the wide smile on his tired features. As everyone watched and waited, a hatch opened in the underside of the ship, and a lightly glowing blue light flashed once at the top, as a stream of light plunged towards the ground, and three mechs materialized in the center of the group, stepping out of the transportation beam calmly.

The first impression Sam had was that the spokesman could have passed for Optimus Prime's brother or identical twin, had it not been for the alternate paint job. The two who flanked him were unique in their own way. The blue mech appeared to have an issue with staying still, his optics constantly roaming around, and some part of him twitching. The red mech simply gazed around calmly with a critical gaze, and nodded once to a few of the mechs he seemed to recognize by sight. Their leader stepped forward tall and regal and stood directly before the battered Autobot commander "Optimus Prime. My apologies for not notifying you of our arrival. Unfortunately our communications array was damaged coming through the asteroid belt of this solar system. I hope our arrival was at a fortunate point for your battle."

"Ultra Magnus my friend, you could not have chosen a better time to arrive." Optimus said fondly, his voice filled with gratitude. "It is good to see you again, Bluestreak, Red Alert, all of you."

"It is a pleasure to be here, sir."


	49. Epilogue

**How it Is**  
**Epilogue**

By: Nightelfcrawler  
_Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle._

* * *

"Are you certain you won't stay for dinner, Sam dear?"

"Thanks mom, but we really need to get going."

"But you're looking so thin and so pale! I'm certain that they haven't been feeding you properly on that alien base…"

Sam couldn't help but exchange a wry grin with Mikaela who simply rolled her eyes in response. "Don't worry mom, I'm doing just fine. It's just been a long few weeks."

"Goodness gracious yes." Judy Witwicky harrumphed. "I still can barely believe those photos in the paper… an alien ship over Mission City."

"It really happened mom. I was there."

"Yes dear, I realize that." Despite everything that had happened, she still had the ability to sound condescending. "I suppose I should really get used to all this… aliens and space ships…" She bit her lip. "Dear me…"

Sam laughed and approached his mother and gently pulled her into a warm hug. "You'll get used to it eventually. After all, some of them are going to stay here to help fix the damage from the battle, and to keep an eye on any Decepticons that decided to hang around."

Judy sighed and patted her boy's hand lightly. "I know…" She turned back around and placed both hands on his shoulder to look him square in the eyes. "I just want you to promise me one thing when you're traveling. You make sure you eat properly. No excuses that you're light-years away, you hear me?"

"Judy…" Ron chuckled. "He's going to be traveling to another planet. I think he'll have to make do with space food."

"I have the right to worry about his health! Look at him!" She smacked his chest. "All skin and bones!"

"It's called 'toned', mom."

Sam smiled as he embraced his mother once more, feeling a tug of regret as she returned the tight grasp. As he had promised Mikaela, he hadn't told them the full truth. He just didn't have the heart. Besides, thanks to Wheeljack's success, albeit at the cost of a limb or two in failure first, he'd managed to almost perfect his holographic self. He had even the rare ability to actually cloak it around himself, as his mass was more human sized. He still came across as a bit taller than he should, but his parents seemed to have passed it off as growing pains. It wasn't quite the same as before, but it was close enough to at least allow the semblance of normalcy.

"Just be careful out there…" Judy said in a quiet voice, lifting her eyes to her son, trying to hold back the tears threatening to reveal her concern. "And make sure you write… er… transmit a message… now and then."

"I will. I promise."

She gave him another fond pat. It took some time to finally finish the farewells, but eventually Sam slipped out of the house with Mikaela's hand in his, bag over one shoulder, with one final glance back at his childhood home.

"Admit it, you're going to miss them."

"Shut up." He grumbled irritably, a look of annoyance flashing over his face, before it softened again. "You're right… I will…"

She smiled and squeezed his hand gently as they stopped on the lawn where the bright yellow Camaro sat calmly beside the pair of flashy Lamborghinis. Miles was standing there with a very wide grin on his face, looking clearly pleased with himself. "Hey! Come on! We're bored of waiting for you guys over here!"

Sam smiled, but it was slightly strained as he turned to gaze at the quiet blue eyes watching him. "I'm going to miss you… You're sure you won't come with us?"

"You know there's no place for humans on that space ship of yours." She said quietly. "And I really don't trust Wheeljack to invent any food dispenser for me."

"Good point."

"Miles is disappointed his parents wouldn't let him go."

"I still don't get that… how many kids get the chance to travel across the galaxy, and he gets himself grounded for being involved in a 'secret alien war' behind their backs?"

"Well, they ARE Miles parents… you wondered where he got his eccentricities from."

"I guess."

"Just…" she lifted an arm and lightly slung it around his neck, pulling him down closer to her. "Don't take too long…"

"Does this mean you'll wait for me?"

Mikaela gave him a quiet secret smile. "As long as you bring me back some kind of Cybertronian souvenir."

Sam grinned. "I'll see what I can do."

"Oh crap, there they go again…"

"I still don't understand the attraction to sharing bodily fluids with one another in such a…germ-filled exchange."

"Sunny, remind me to send you a few websites…"

"Please DON'T."

* * *

The Ark was one impressive feat of engineering. It had taken nearly the entire war to construct it. At first, it had been merely a precautionary feeling that had sparked it's conception, a thought that it could become invaluable at a later time if a disaster ever plagued their planet.

As it turned out, it became a necessity.

The Ark had been built as a warship, however it had ended up becoming a refuge for those fleeing Cybertron. Before Optimus Prime had left with his squad of fighters to pursue the Allspark, he had ordered his Second in Command of the Autobot fleet to the most important job of the entire war. Ultra Magnus was to take control of the Ark and flee with all the refugees, protect their lives with the power of the ships' defenses, and wait until the time came when it's fortified armory would be needed at a critical time. As unhappy as Ultra Magnus had been in accepting the duty, he knew his responsibility to his people and had taken control without hesitation. Under his command, they had not lost a single mech, and had in fact added a few to their numbers.

Sam was just blown away by the Ark. In his entire life he had seen recreations of space ships all over the place, heck Miles had his own imagination to add to the mix. However the Ark wasn't just a warship or a mobile fortress… it was a haven, a second home.

It gave him a whole new perspective to see small mechs running and laughing through the hallways, to see families, to see smiles and warmth instead of battle-trained soldiers. The Ark was built to house EVERYONE, not just soldiers. Sam had spent so much time around the Autobots that he'd just assumed every Cybertronian was involved in the war. Despite the numerous retellings of the history of their planet, it had just never occurred to him that there would be civilians, those that chose not to join up with any faction, but lived under the protective wing of the Autobots. Seeing the faces in the hallways as he was led through the ship with the others was about the most amazing thing he had ever seen. There were mechs of all sizes, small as him and smaller even, to taller and more massive than Skyfire. There were femmes and sparklings, and even some creatures that appeared to be created pets.

And all of them apparently knew of Optimus Prime.

It was a strange procession as Sam walked proudly alongside Bumblebee and the others following their leader through the ship. Their armor was polished, battle scars mended, and their pride strong as eager faces watched them, applauded enthusiastically from all sides.

They were HEROS.

Until this date, Sam had never felt like a hero, nor considered himself to be one. Admittedly, he had done a great deal for the war, perhaps his influence had been more than anyone else in some respects, but he had always felt as if it were simply what was required, what the war demanded of him, and he would be selfish to deny the world the protection and defense he could offer in the fight. He had fought hard, alongside his friends, but none of them had ever gotten adoring recognition for all their hard work and sacrifice.

This was a parade of honor. This was a hero's welcome. This was home.

"Don't let it go to your head, kid." Came a gentle reminder at his ear as they passed through another corridor, on their way to the bridge. He glanced over at Ironhide who was smirking at him, Chromia linked through one arm looking satisfied herself. "It ain't all fun and games most of the time."

"Hey, don't spoil our fun." Sideswipe protested, leaning forward to hang onto the weapons specialist's arm, his brother smirking behind him. "It's not every day we get showered by adoring fans and drooled at by the femmes. Give us a break, just cause you've GOT one doesn't mean the rest of us do. This is all for the ladies, right bro?"

"Frag yeah."

"The day you two get femmes of your own, I will turn in my commission." Ratchet said wryly from behind them. "Because that is the day the world will end."

"Aw, someone needs to get overcharged."

There was a loud reverberating clank that echoed through the halls. "OW! WATCH IT HATCHET!"

There was a unified chuckle of laughter from the group as all their spirits felt lifted high and cheered for the first time in ages. For Sam especially, he felt suddenly as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders and heart, knowing that everything was over at last… Sure it wouldn't be easy, and it would be a long journey back to Cybertron… but it would be worth it. Traveling to a distant galaxy was not as glorious or flashy as the movies showed it. There was no cheating, no hyperspace or light speed to whisk them across the galaxy in mere days. This was going to take years… Fortunately once they arrived they would be able to go back with much less convenience, thanks to a new technology that Skyfire and Wheeljack had collaborated on at the drawing board.

It was called a space bridge. And the Autobots who had volunteered to remain on Earth were busy building the Terran Gate.

As the parade of heroes reached the large doors at the end of the hall, they slid open smoothly to reveal an enormous space that opened up into a complex network of terminals and controls, all backlit by the largest window Sam had ever seen. Below them serene and peaceful was the open expanse of the Nevada desert, a painted picture of serenity. In the far distance he could just make out Mission City.

"Autobots…" Optimus Prime said, stopping in the very center of the bridge to face the gathered assembly of mechs. "We have fought long and hard, traveled distances we never have seen… Though our war is not over, we have at least reached a turning point in our battles… From here, we see hope… from here, we finally can see the end in reach. Our lives exists now towards one purpose… to return to Cybertron."

His kind smile gazed across the gathered forces, both familiar faces whom had fought side-by side, and those new ones who had come to their rescue at last.

"Our home awaits."

* * *

_Thank you all for sticking through this story to the end. It was a blast to write. It went through many revisions, and totally took on a new life to what I expected at it's onset, a small drabble I never intended to publish at all, but thanks to a friend who convinced me to give it a try, this fic has completely surpassed any of my previous attempts._

_Now… how do I top this?_

_Never fear, though the sequel will come I'm taking a break from this story to work on the five others I have been working on between chapters… so look for more interesting stuff soon!_

* * *


End file.
